


The New Normal

by guineaDogs, orphan_account



Series: love in the the time of covid-19 [1]
Category: South Park
Genre: (but no mpreg actually happens), Aged-Up Character(s), Alpha Craig Tucker, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Anal Sex, Background Stan/Nichole, Breeding Kink, COVID-19, Cryle Week, Dirty Talk, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Marking, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Nesting, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Kyle Broflovski, Quarantine, Scent Kink, Scenting, Sex Toys, major character death but it's kenny and he comes back, mentions of mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:21:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 43,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24381979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guineaDogs/pseuds/guineaDogs, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Cryle Week 2020 Day 5 - IntimacyWhen President Garrison insists that the omega heat suppressant, Suppressitor, can be used to both prevent and cure a highly contagious pathogen, the medication that Kyle needs to maintain his lifestyle becomes impossible to find. To make matters worse, finals are right around the corner, and the Stay-At-Home Order has ensured that he's stuck in the apartment he shares with his very attractive alpha roommate—who has always known Kyle to be a beta.
Relationships: Kyle Broflovski/Craig Tucker
Series: love in the the time of covid-19 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1760620
Comments: 48
Kudos: 233
Collections: Cryle Week 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not to be all "our Cryle week stuff is coming fashionably late and out of order," but it absolutely is. Heed the tags, and if this is your thing, read it, consume it. We'll post part two when you finish digesting.

“Did you guys hear what Garrison said about heat suppressants?” Stan snickered in his designated Discord screen. A mixture of groans and laughter followed from the other four friends on the call. “Sounds like a bunch of bullshit, right?” He tipped his bottle of Budweiser toward his webcam in a cheers, and took a sip.  
  
The five of them—Kyle, Stan, Butters, Kenny, and Eric—had begrudgingly replaced their semi-weekly Thursday night gaming and booze nights with Discord calls when it finally became necessary to distance themselves from each other. 

For Butters, the pandemic was barely a change to his lifestyle—he lived with his parents, and worked part-time doing medical coding from home. Kenny had the misfortune of being an essential worker at a grocery store, and was taking the call while clad in his uniform, with his name tag latched to his shirt and cloth mask still covering his face. 

Stan, Kyle, and Eric faced the biggest changes. For Stan and Kyle, the pandemic meant remote university learning. For Eric, who was the last person to agree with, adopt to, and accept their new normal—a phrase which routinely made all five men in the group roll their eyes—it meant unemployment, and moving back to his mother’s in South Park. 

“Fellas, I dunno.” Butters gingerly sipped his White Claw. “I know I’m supposed to trust the president ‘n all, but I just don’t think I can vote for him again.” 

Kyle groaned. “I can’t believe you voted for that bastard in the first place, dude.” 

“Well, _Kahl,_ he’s got my vote. I don’t see what the fuckin’ problem is.” Cartman spoke around a mouthful of pretzels. “I know where you live, Kahl. I’d keep an eye on those suppressants if I were you.”

“Eric, it isn’t gonna work. You’re an alpha. You’ll just get tits,” Stan volunteered. 

“Bigger tits than he’s already got, you mean.” Kyle cackled behind his beer. 

“AY!” 

Kenny shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind tits.”

"There is no logical reason why heat suppressants will work. There's not even an anti-inflammatory component to it. All you would be doing is contributing to a needless national shortage." The whole topic made Kyle irritable. "Come around here and I'll kick your ass, fat boy." 

Cartman made an indignant yell, his face going red. "I'm not going to die from the ‘rona just because _you_ don't want to get ass-bred like you're supposed to."

“Fuck off, fatass!” Kyle’s voice rose an octave, his skin turning pink. 

“Yeah, by that, ah, that sexy specimen of a roommate you’ve got there.” Butters delivered his statement with a sly grin. 

Kyle groaned. He let slip _one_ time that he thought his alpha roommate was attractive, and the guys hadn’t yet let him live it down. 

“Kyle, actually, it’s kinda weird you guys stayed there. I’m back on the farm. Not like you can go to campus or anything.” 

“And quarantine with my mother?”

Kenny bursted into laughter. "I think you have to let Kyle have that one, Stan." He leaned back in his seat, palming at his pecs like he was still imagining having tits. "I'd stay with a hot piece of man meat instead of momzilla." 

Kyle, forever grateful that he was wearing a headset. He didn't need Craig hearing his friends talking about him. Still, he looked over his shoulder to ensure he was still alone. "Guys, that's enough."

“Gee, fellas, I’m, ahh. Glad I’m not an omega or nothin’.” Butters bumped his knuckles together, rubbing them nervously while his own gaze wandered toward his bedroom door. “Why, if there was a national shortage of heat suppressants and I wasn’t a beta and I went into heat and got all that... That _gooey_ stuff on our laundry, I’d get grounded.”

"Butters, dude, you're an adult," Stan reminded him, not for the first time ever. "Your parents can't ground you." 

"You don't understand how strong my dad's grounding powers are, Stan."

“I’m tellin’ ya, Butters, just quarantine with one of us.” Kenny leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head in a yawn. “Not me, of course. I don’t wanna kill anyone with this shit by accident.” 

“Seriously, Butters, you could do your job anywhere.” 

“ _Eric,_ that’s not the point! I just know how mad my folks’ll be if I even talk about leavin’ the house.”

"Then let them get mad, dude." Stan chimed in. Kyle watched him down another can of beer—PBR,this time—crush it, and discard it somewhere off-screen. "You can't live your whole life based on their expectations for you. Especially when you're going to be in close proximity for who knows how long." 

Kyle didn't disagree with what Stan said at all, but he allowed his thoughts to drift. He'd gotten along with Craig in the time they've been roommate's, but those were during normal situations. Where both of them were out and busy and hardly home longer than to sleep most of the time? 

But that could change in... Fuck. If everyone went out and bought Suppressitor and all of its generic versions, like he was worried would happen, how much time did he even have left? 

It wasn't a death sentence. But it felt like one. 

Opening the desk drawer beside himself, he pulled out the brown bottle with the ambiguous label. Kyle screwed off the top and peered in. There were less than thirty pills left, but would he be able to get his next 90-day script filled this far out? He had his doubts.

Part of him wondered what it would feel like. He hadn’t experienced a heat since he was thirteen—and, even then, it hadn’t been a full one. His mother had rushed him to the hospital during the dead of night with his first sign of presentation, in what remained one of the more humiliating experiences of his life. He remembered feeling dazed, and exhausted, and like nothing but an alpha, _his_ alpha, would make him complete again. He remembered the embarrassment of slick running down his legs, of the nurses tutting over him, and pumping him full of emergency suppressants, and of leaving hours later to pick up his first Suppressitor and birth control prescriptions at the Walgreens on the corner. 

But, mostly, he remembered feeling like the biggest fucking disappointment in the universe when his parents couldn’t look him in the eye for a day or so. It was then he vowed that he wasn’t, and would never be, beholden to, or held back by, his secondary sex. 

“What do you think, Kyle?” 

“Yeah, are you down?” 

His friends’ questions barely registered; it was more so the silence that made him aware he’d zoned out. “Oh! Yeah, totally,” he said, not knowing what he was agreeing with. 

“Alright!” Stan beamed. “So next week we can try out that emulator. They’re saying it’s pretty close to playing tabletop in person.”

There were murmurs of agreement, which were abruptly interrupted by faint but increasingly louder yelling from who was easily recognizable as Butters's dad. 

" _Fiddlesticks._ I gotta go, fellas," Butters said quickly. As he hung up, there was a fraction of audio of him responding to his dad. 

Silence followed for a moment, and eventually Kenny made an excuse to go, followed by Cartman. Only Stan remained on the call with him. As Kyle watched Stan, he couldn't help but wish none of this stuff was happening. He'd rather be able to hang with his best friend in person, which wouldn't have happened even if he went back home. It just sucked.

"Are you gonna be okay, dude?" 

Kyle could hear the concern in Stan's words, and as much as he appreciated it, he also hated it for the reminder of his deficiencies. "Yeah, dude, don't worry about me. I'm not the one who's stuck on a farm."

Stan groaned. “You’re telling me, dude. I asked Nichole if she wanted to stay with us, but if that shortage is gonna go down...” He ran his hand through his hair, and chuckled. “Our parents didn’t think it was a good idea. I mean, at least we have webcams, but it’s like she’s _right there,_ she’s like, miles away, and I can’t see her and I know it’s gonna kill me, and—Shit, I’m sorry, Kyle.” 

Stan must’ve noticed the grimace on Kyle’s face at the mention of the impending shortage. “No, it’s cool, dude. I hope she’ll be okay.” Stan and Nichole had been dating since high school, and were nearly inseparable. Everyone was counting down the days until they inevitably announced their bond. 

“I’m thinking of going on rut suppressors for the rest of this shit, not gonna lie. But I don’t really wanna go to the doctor and get exposed.” He took a long chug of his beer, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Anyway. She might join next week if that’s cool. She misses gaming with you guys.” 

“Even Cartman?” Kyle snickered.

"Isolation is hard on everyone," Stan responded pensively before bursting into laughter. Cartman's relationship with _everyone_ was a complicated one. 

Kyle shrugged. "I don't mind. Doubt the others will either." 

"Cool." They talked a little longer, just the two of them, and it was nice. But then it ended and Kyle was left with the knowledge that he was alone, isolated with an alpha who didn't, and _couldn't ever_ know that he was an omega.

* * *

“Unity HealthCo, this is Carol, how may I help you today?” 

“Hi.” The relief in his tone was palpable. Even if she already sounded over it and like she’d do anything other than help him, Kyle was relieved to hear the voice of his insurance representative on the other line, after waiting on hold for the better part of an hour. If he’d had to deal with a continuous loop of that _mmm whatcha say_ song for one more moment, he probably would’ve ended up on the news. “So I was just calling to see if there was any possible way to get an early medication refill?” Kyle's voice cracked a bit. “It’s for my, um, heat suppressants.” 

“May I have your name and member number please, if you do not have your member number available at this time I am able to look you up with your social,” she rattled off without a breath.

Kyle called prepared: he had his insurance card in hand, so he responded with all the necessary information. As soon as he was done, he returned the card to his wallet and paced his room with his phone pressed against his ear. 

"Thank you, Mr. Broflovski. I see your prescription for Suppressitor can be refilled in ten days." 

"Yes, but is there any way I can get it filled sooner?" 

"Did you lose your medication?" 

"No," Kyle responded, continuing to pace about. "I just need to get it refilled as soon—"

"Sir. Did. You. Lose. Your. Medication." It was when she repeated it that Kyle understood what was going on. He nodded automatically, and upon remembering she couldn't see him, cleared his throat. 

"Yes. It's lost. When do you think I can get a replacement?" 

"As you know, there is a national shortage of Suppressitor due to the false and unfounded belief that it prevents and cures COVID-19. While we cannot offer a confirmed date of availability. I have placed your refill order, so as soon as it's available it will be mailed to your home address. Right now we have an estimation of three to four weeks." 

Kyle felt like his entire world shattered before him. "I only have enough to get me to next Monday." 

“Unity HealthCo understands your concerns and would like to thank you for your sacrifice in these trying times. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

“But... but my roommate’s an alpha and he thinks I’m a beta and I don’t know what I’m going to do if he—“ Kyle drew in a shaky breath, embarrassed by his outburst. “Ma’am, there isn’t _any_ way I can get it sooner?” 

She sighed on the other end of the line. “Unfortunately, that is all the information I have for you at this time. You can contact your mail order pharmacy, you can call local pharmacies if you’re willing to transfer your prescription, but I cannot guarantee they will have a different answer for you.” She sounded exhausted. Kyle wondered how many times she’d had that very conversation before his call went through? How many other omegas were going through this very situation? 

“Oh. Okay, yeah. I understand.” He paused. “Thank you. That’s... it, then.” 

“Absolutely. And sir?” She waited for Kyle to respond with a yes. “Maybe you should’ve thought ahead before rooming with an alpha. Thank you as always for doing business with Unity HealthCo and we wish you the best of luck in these unprecedented times, goodbye.”

His phone beeped in the way it did to indicate an ended call. For a moment, he could only stare at his phone. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. And when it all finally caught up on him, he threw his phone across to his room onto his bed. Did he scream? Yell? 

If he did, he was so caught up in _everything_ that he didn't hear it. 

Fuck Carol. Fuck the insurance company. Fuck Garrison for spewing shit like a goddamn moron. Fuck himself for being born with this _curse._

His breathing was ragged, and it felt like his bones were trembling as he sat on his bed. Everything he'd worked so hard for was going to get ripped away from him. And that _bitch_ Carol had the audacity to victim blame.

He flopped face down and shoved his face in the pillow, screaming into it until his throat felt raw. His hands curled into fists, and he was vaguely aware of his phone falling onto the floor as he punched at his blankets, fists bouncing off his too-firm mattress. 

He willed himself not to cry, although it proved futile—the more he tried to hold off, the closer he got to bursting into tears, until he felt his pillow moisten under his face. 

Of course, as his luck would have it, there was a knock on his door. “Hold on,” Kyle managed to croak. He groaned, springing to his feet and rushing to shove his medication bottle and insurance card into his desk, to power up his laptop, which was mercifully still switched to a PowerPoint for the Environmental Psychology class he shared with Craig, and wipe at his tears with his sleeve. He perched himself on his desk chair, crossing his legs conspicuously. 

“Come in.”

His door opened with a slight creak at its hinges. Craig let himself in, though he moved little more than just inside Kyle's doorway. "Are you alright? I heard... a lot of things."

Kyle knew what that did and didn't entail; there was a reason he never used speakerphone for any of his health-related calls. There were only so many ways to get out of telling Craig what was going on, and the one way to do that was to at least acknowledge that he'd lost his shit. "It's just. School. This fucking pandemic. Everything." 

"Yeah. Everything sucks," Craig agreed. "You know I'm here if you need anything." And as a joke, he added, "I literally can't leave."

Kyle forced out a laugh. “Yeah. I mean. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to move back home.” 

Craig crossed his arms, and leaned against the doorframe. “Why would I wanna do that? I'm not gonna stick you with the lease.” He shrugged. “I don’t wanna fucking, you know, put up with my parents either. Not if they’re stuck in the same house together.” 

“Yeah. I hear that.” If there was one thing they had in common, apart from being in their university’s psychology program together, it was avoiding their families, although for entirely different reasons.

Kyle felt Craig's eyes on him, but Kyle kept his gaze focused on the computer screen, and the schoolwork he wasn't going to work on today. He didn't say anything, but eventually, Craig did. 

"Well. I'll leave you to do your thing. When you're done, we should catch the new Russell Crowe episode." 

He wasn't going to work on anything. The benefit of everything suddenly moving online was no one was prepared for it, but that also meant that he was stuck with a bunch of bullshit assignments that he didn't care to do right then. "Sure thing."

“I finished that thing, um. Earlier. For enviro psych. So just yell if you need help.” Craig was out of Kyle’s room before Kyle could even register that he’d said anything. Which was fine. He didn’t want Craig seeing any more of just how upset he was. Didn’t need him to catch on to what was actually happening. Definitely didn’t need him to figure out that he was an omega.... 

That is, if he hasn’t already heard. 

Kyle stared at his laptop until it went to sleep and the screen went black. His entire chest and stomach felt like a gaping, raw hole in the middle of his body. What was in store for him? Having to go back to his mother’s and deal with the utter humiliation of riding out his heat in the same house as his family? Staying at Tegridy Farms and risking something he and Stan would both regret, for very many reasons? Or, god forbid, one of those depressing Omega Homes, the kind that were run by nuns and designed for unmarried omegas dealing with their heats? 

He swallowed thickly, shuddering a sob as he powered up his computer once more. After typing in his passcode, he fired up Chrome. 

_rationing omega heat suppressants,_ he typed into the search bar.

He clicked the first link that looked reputable. Of course the recommendation was that omegas shouldn't ration suppressants. It decreased the effectiveness, which Kyle expected. That was how medicine worked. But what choice did he have? 

Another link was to a reddit post on r/AskOmegas. At least questions and concerns Kyle had were answered candidly there. Everything was obligatory _IANAD_ but doctors had other concerns right now. There was at least a response that gave him the direction he needed: _yeah im kinda fucked over too rn but i'm cutting my pills in half to double the amount of time they'll last. it'll decrease effectiveness, sure, but my friend's premed and said it's better than skipping days._

That was what he was going to have to do, then, and he had an X-Acto knife.

He cleared a space on the glass surface of his desk, sprayed it down with some Lysol and, after it dried, set about methodically cutting his pills in half, right along the center perforation. 

_At least I’m on birth control,_ he thought as he placed each half of his little, green tablets back into the bottle. He knew with certainty there wouldn’t be a shortage of that. Omega birth control, even for male omegas, was one of the most common medications out there, coming in many different brands and generics. He also knew most of the side effects behind his medications, and took some comfort in that his birth control by itself was responsible for a small dip in his libido. 

But would that alone save him?

Kyle filed that thought away for now. There was nothing he could do but hope. Short of going back in time and buying a massive supply of his medicine, contributing to the shortage, and preventing access to others—yeah, this was going to have to be good enough. 

When he finished, he put his halved pills back in the bottle and cleaned up the thin layer of light green dust from his pills. Kyle knew he'd have to end up barricading himself in his room later, but for now, he had the chance to act normally and enjoy his friend's company before it all went to shit. 

Craig was in the living room, doing something on his phone, and Kyle settled beside him. "I decided fuck it, schoolwork can wait."

“I like how you think.” Craig tossed him a lopsided grin, and Kyle tried to ignore the pang in his heart at the sight. 

He couldn’t go there—Craig was his _friend._ Sure, they were both into guys, and sure, Craig was unforgivingly, unbelievably attractive, but not only would they be jeopardizing their friendship and relationship as roommates if anything happened between them, Kyle also reasoned that he would be taking the space of a more worthy omega. One that didn’t have those pesky _goals_ of his getting in the way. 

That, and anything happening between the two of him would possibly mean his status getting out to the entire department at school, a thought that made Kyle feel sick. 

“When’s the new Russell Crowe drop?”

"HBO should be dropping it any moment now. Wanna have a drink while we watch?" 

They were friends, but Craig was sometimes too nice to him. Still, he smiled, and nodded, and Craig got up to grab them a couple beers.

Craig settled back onto the couch with a pillow on his lap. He’d brought an extra beer for them each, which he set on the coffee table. They didn’t have cable, only what streaming services the two of them, and their parents, subscribed to which, between everyone, was close to everything on the market.

But they still got a few channels, and when the television was switched on, the local news station took up the screen. 

_“...and President Garrison is out here saying that because omegas are theorized to be less likely to contract the virus, that_ everyone _should start taking omega heat suppressants. Now, I don’t think—”_

“Ugh.” Craig switched the input to his PS4. “Fucking ‘tard. He’s just gonna cause a shortage and it’s not even gonna work.” 

“Seriously.” Kyle swigged his beer, savoring the taste. It was one of those really hoppy IPAs that Craig always drank; while Kyle once found them disgusting, he’d come around to liking them the more Craig offered to share. His heart pounded against his ribcage, as if Craig could somehow read his mind and know his true status. “That’s what I said, dude.”

"It's just as well I have no plans to go out anytime soon," Craig mused while studying his beer like it was something interesting and not the same design as always. "I don't take anything for ruts, personally. No fault to anyone that does, doesn't make 'em less of a man or anything like that." 

Kyle felt his brain short circuit as he processed the fact that he was going to run out of suppressants, and Craig didn't take anything at all. Maybe he really should've gone home and suffered there. "I hate the idea of being out of control." It was his worst fear, but then he saw Craig tilting his head, he quickly added. "Hypothetically."

Craig shrugged. “Isn’t all that bad for me. That’s what a fleshlight and omega porn are for, dude.” He tilted his beer bottle toward Kyle in a _cheers_ , and Kyle, cheeks burning and stomach doing nervous flips, clinked his beer against Craig’s. “Yeah. You’re still pretty lucky you’re a beta, though. If this happens and we can’t get grocery delivery, at least you can hit up the store.” 

Kyle felt his mouth go dry. “Yeah, heh. Totally. I gotcha, dude.” He swigged his beer, finding that it was already close to empty.

“My dad, he takes rut suppressants though, ‘cause my parents don’t wanna be anywhere near each other on a good day,” Craig grumbled as he flipped through Netflix. “Told me the side effects—Hey, check this out.” Craig had stopped on a title. _”Too Hot To Handle: Alphas and Omegas.”_ He gave a snort.

"Is that the show where everyone is off their meds for a month and can't fuck?" Kyle scrunched his nose. He'd heard about it on a podcast and had been absolutely _horrified._ And right now? It was far too on the nose. "Pass." 

"What, you don't want to watch a reality show that's almost a softcore porn?" 

Kyle groaned, and playfully smacked Craig's upper arm.

Craig smiled. He had such a nice smile, Kyle thought, one that not just anyone was granted the privilege of seeing. It wasn’t because of some bullshit, hyper-masculine alpha posturing, no; Craig was never the type for that. He was just reserved. Stoic. Quiet and careful with his words and emotions until you really got to know him, which tended to take a while.

Kyle was forever grateful that they’d reached the point in their friendship, and roommate arrangement, where Craig felt comfortable enough to be himself around him. It filled him with dread to think that, soon, his biology would betray him, and undo all the progress made in their friendship.

The thought of it made something awful settle in the pit of his stomach. He grimaced, and tried to focus on Russell Crowe's antics on the television. He hoped that the feeling would fade when it ended, but it didn't. He just felt worse. 

"I think I'm just going to hit the hay early," he announced, getting to his feet. He doubted he'd actually sleep, but being right _here_ wasn't helping. 

Craig nodded, picking up their empty beer cans. "You alright, man?" 

"Yeah... just a little tired, I guess."

“Alright.” Craig stared at him, with a look in his eyes that Kyle couldn’t quite place. Sympathy? Concern? If there was a chance that Craig heard his earlier conversation with the insurance company, perhaps it was fear. He shrugged. “Sleep well.” 

“You too. Night,” Kyle said absently. It felt like he was on autopilot as he walked to the bathroom to brush his teeth and get ready for bed. Once in his room, the door securely shut behind him, he opened his desk drawer, and stared at his bottle of suppressants. 

He’d left one pill whole.

Kyle wanted to delay the inevitable as much as possible, but so much was out of his control. He took his last full pill, and was filled with dread when he took the half dosage. He'd built up enough of _whatever_ that changing the dosage would mean that he'd still be okay for a while. 

He was even vainly hopeful, because the first day went okay. He felt normal. Craig treated him normally. But of course it didn't stay that way. Nothing in life was fair, and that was _especially_ true for Kyle's life. 

He was presenting differently. He could feel it. He could _smell_ it, and while he felt decently okay he didn't feel _entirely_ so. At first, Kyle wrote it off as waking up feeling particularly pent up and anxious. Disruption of schedules were never good for him, nor was staying inside doing little more than schoolwork and watching too much television. 

He hadn't slept well, either, and all of this combined with the stress of knowing that _his entire life was going to be destroyed because he didn't have enough of his fucking medicine,_ it was totally understandable that he felt off. Determined to believe that a shower would fix it, he showered and completely got ready for the day. 

Which was really just the full gamut of personal hygiene and getting dressed before he made his way to the kitchen for coffee. Craig was already up, sitting on the couch with a textbook and a cup of coffee in hand. 

"Morn—ing," Craig said, and it would've been completely normal except Kyle could hear the pause in his greeting, could see his brows furrow, and his face crease as he frowned.

 _Fuck._

"Hi," Kyle said, rubbing the back of his neck. The word caught in his esophagus, and he was suddenly stricken with a dry mouth and throat, a terrible thirst—was it because of anxiety, or did it have something to do with his _stupid_ fucking body? He'd opened the fridge for half and half, but, before he even entertained the option of adding it to his coffee, he grabbed a bottle of water, and uncapped it, drinking so fast that the plastic crumpled, causing a symphony of crinkles throughout their kitchen. He'd downed it in seconds, but it wasn't enough; he still felt parched. Without thought, he repeated the process with another bottle, downing about half of it before embarrassment set in, and he remembered Craig was sitting right there. 

"Didn't know you drank last night," Craig quipped, the hint of humor in his voice sounding pinched and forced.

"I didn't," Kyle admitted sheepishly. "Just feeling dehydrated is all." Which wasn't exactly a lie at all. His mouth felt dry, and the only way to fix that was water. It didn't explain him acting like a fucking psycho in the kitchen, but it was hard to really care about that when he was now convinced that Craig knew exactly what was wrong with him. 

He fidgeted, ultimately leaning against the counter in an attempt to act casual. "Are you doing okay? You seem a little... tense." Pot, kettle. 

But it was true. Craig was absolutely rigid. He wasn't even resting against the back of the couch anymore. "Yeah. I suppose it's just time for a break."

"Oh. Yeah, okay." Kyle had a feeling Craig hadn't been awake very long. They were both early risers—well, for a couple of college kids—and, although he hadn't woken up until his own alarm buzzed that particular morning, he'd been roused by Craig's alarm in the past, and he typically set his for about 45 minutes before Kyle's. Craig always showered before him, washing what he could of his alpha stink down the drain. 

The scent lingered, though, in the bathroom. On the towels, the shower curtain. It lingered _around_ Craig. Even on blockers, Kyle could smell it, could sometimes tell that there was an alpha in closer proximity to him than most of society would approve. On the full dose of his blockers, it was akin to being around a secret cigarette smoker—infrequent whiffs, but not enough to bother him, and occasionally it didn't register at all. It was part of what the medication did, of course; omegas trying to integrate themselves as productive members of society couldn't be losing their composure every time there was an alpha in the vicinity. 

Yet, now... 

Now, even after two days, Kyle wondered if Craig had even been able to mask that scent with body wash and deodorant and colognes in the first place, or if it was a permanent part of him. It wasn't strong, not yet, but give it a few days, and.... 

_Ugh._ Kyle pushed the thought out of his head as best he could. He should've just stayed in bed. 

"Well." Kyle rocked on his heels, staring at the linoleum. "I'm gonna just..." He poured his coffee into a large, reusable mug with a twist-on cap to keep it warm, forgetting completely the creamer that was supposed to go in it, and instead opting for a couple more bottles of water, which he shoved into the pocket of his hoodie. "Message me to, um, I think we were supposed to go over the... something. For class."

"Right. Yeah, of course." 

Kyle couldn't bring himself to look back at Craig. He didn't want to know what expression he bore, but he could only assume that it was betrayal. That was the only thing Craig could be feeling, right? All these years, befriending a guy, rooming with him, studying with him, thinking he's a beta and— 

And to find out that the person Craig had befriended, trusted, and cohabitated with was a filthy, _disgusting_ omega. Craig probably hated him for this transgression. Even though if everything had always happened how it was supposed to, no one ever would've known, Craig included. 

Withdrawing from the medicine, even slightly, made him feel emotional. His eyes felt puffy and as he laid back down on his bed. Eventually, he was going to have to do his schoolwork, but for the moment he was determined to lay there and mourn his loss.

* * *

Kyle's mood hadn't improved that evening, either. If anything, he felt even _more_ irritable, but with the added bonus of a dull pain behind his eyes, and a curious decrease in hunger that contrasted with his near-constant, unquenchable thirst. Nevertheless, he found himself on his regular Discord call with the guys—minus Nichole, who, after their last call, had joined them a few times. He didn't ask where she went—he had a feeling, from how miserable Stan looked, that her experience wasn't far off from his. 

He wasn't even sure why he snapped at Cartman mid-call, and ultimately, it didn't matter. Whatever it was, he'd deserved Kyle raising his voice to a near shriek and telling him to shut the fuck up. 

"What's your problem, _Kahl?_ " Eric narrowed his eyes, and folded his hands in his lap. He looked like a poor man's Bond villain with how he twiddled his thumbs, albeit overgrown. "Salty 'cause your ass is leaking and your roommate hasn't given you his knot yet?" 

Kyle's face turned crimson. "Nobody fucking has a knot anymore, Cartman! The last person with a knot died, like, a hundred years ago because evolutionary speaking it—" 

"I have one," Eric interrupted his rant. 

"You _do not have a knot,_ fatass!"

"Fellas, Eric _does_ have a knot, I've seen it!" Butters sounded earnest. Kyle didn't know if he was just trying to defend his friend, but he really didn't care. 

"I don't know what you _thought_ you saw, Butters," Kyle said, far too annoyed with everything to even try to be nice. "But it wasn't a knot. It's more likely he put a fucking _doughnut_ on his dick." 

Eric was absolutely losing it. "Shut your fucking mouth you fucking omega! No one gives a fuck about what bottom bitch omegas think, learn your place!"

"It was totally a doughnut," Kenny added, between Kyle's noise of indignation and his own uproarious laughter. "He did that at a sleepover once, you guys don't remember?" 

Stan chuckled. "Yeah. I remember that." He sipped his beer with obvious stifled aggression. Kyle could tell that he was trying as best as he could to smile, but not doing a good job of it. _you okay dude?_ Kyle DM'ed him. 

"Screw you guys, I'm going—" Eric looked around him, taking in his messy bedroom. "I'm going!" With that, his feed cut out.

Kenny immediately burst into laughter, and though Butters seemed a little worried by Eric's reaction, Kenny immediately distracted him with—honestly, Kyle didn't know. Something. Some conversation; it didn’t matter. He didn’t care. It was a struggle to pay attention to that and keep his attention focused on the chat box, awaiting a response from Stan. 

_yeah no everything just sucks right now_

Kyle couldn't agree more. As much as he wanted to properly unload about everything that he was dealing with, it wasn't fair to do that to Stan right now. And surely Kenny had better things to worry about too. Like his _life._

_I hear that. What's going on?_

_went into a rut fucked up my acoustic and some of my board games because i was kinda out of control. im not usually like that but idk. usually not alone lol. nichole is out of meds not doing well and i wish i cuold be there,_ came Stan's response. 

_Shit._ Kyle stared at the screen before formulating the rest of his response, while Butters and Kenny argued back and forth about Eric's (nonexistent) knot, and then Butters launched into a story about being banished to his basement by his parents for hanging out, six feet apart, in Eric's backyard the other day. _Yeah. I'm almost out. I don't know what I'm gonna do._

 _do you need to go home? i know you don't want to but you know the moment you say the word your mom will drive up to get you_

He knew that, and that was exactly the problem. Kyle didn't fully know what he was going to get into trying to stay in his apartment for the duration of the quarantine, but he knew what would happen if he went home. His mom wouldn't give him an inch of breathing room. She'd hover over him, tut, poke, and prod and _still_ manage to look at him with disappointment. 

_Dude there is absolutely No Way. I wouldn't survive it._

Kyle saw Stan's thoughtful expression, though his response still came through text. _alright. have you talked to craig about it? what's he think about the whole thing?_

_He doesn't know._

_lol kyle. trust me, craig knows._

Kyle's only response was a panicked keysmash. Stan ignored it, and continued onward with trying to troubleshoot. _idk what the supply is like rn but can you try a diff rx?_

 _omg._

Kyle blinked several times, in quick succession. Why the _hell_ hadn't he thought of that himself? It was so obvious. Granted, his medication was the best, and most common suppressant on the market, but there were others, older ones that were maybe less effective. At this point, anything was worth a try. 

_you could do the emergency thing too,_ Stan sent before Kyle could type the rest of his response. 

Kyle wrinkled his nose. _It's a pandemic. I'm not going to the ER in the middle of this bullshit while I'm in heat_

 _don't blame u_

_I'll call my doctor tomorrow. Thanks, dude._

Stan sent him a strand of smiley and heart emoji, and, through their respective screens, they shared a smile. 

"Anyway, so my dad and me, we ordered curbside pickup from Hooters, and would you fellas believe they weren't even wearing their little shorts? The, ahhh, you know, uniform thingies." At least Butters was as predictable as ever. "My dad, he didn't really seem to care, though." 

"No shit," Kenny scoffed.

The mention of Hooters reminded Kyle that he had yet to eat, and while he still didn't have an appetite, he knew he needed to eat _something._ The dread he felt at the mere concept of leaving his room wasn't worth the physical anguish he'd be in when his body finally realized that he'd had little more than coffee and water all day. 

Kyle announced he needed to head off, and as he set his headset aside, he took a deep breath. His anxiety was through the roof as he made his way out of his room and down the hall to the kitchen. 

Fortunately, Craig was in his room, so Kyle felt a sense of uneasy, temporary peace as he went through the cabinets to find things to cook. He settled on spag bol, which didn't actually sound good at all, but it was easy and he needed easy right now.

“Hope you’re saving some for me.” 

“Oh! Shit!” Kyle jumped. He was almost surprised that he didn’t smell Craig before he was surprised by his appearance in the threshold of their kitchen. Squaring his shoulders from how they’d tensed up, he poked at the pan of ground beef. “H-hey, dude. Yeah, sure. I’m not gonna eat all of it.” 

Craig nodded, and strode to the fridge. While Kyle dumped a jar of sauce on the meat and covered the pan, setting it to simmer, Craig grabbed a couple of Gatorades, then walked back over to Kyle, handing him one. “Went to the gas station when you were working on homework and got some of these. Figured you might need it.” 

_Trust me, Craig knows._

Kyle flushed as Stan’s words rang through his head, but nevertheless uncapped the beverage and took a hearty swig. It was basically the best thing he’d ever tasted, and Kyle usually hated grape. He let out a small _ahh_ after swallowing. “Did you—“ 

“I did wear a mask. And sprayed the bottles with Lysol. _And_ the rest of the fridge while I was at it.” Craig sipped his Gatorade casually, and leaned against the counter. “So.” There was a glint in his eye. “We having garlic _knots_ with this?” 

Kyle groaned, rolling his eyes. He couldn’t find it in himself to be upset with Craig for eavesdropping on his conversation—for all he knew, it was an accident; besides, Eric claiming to have a knot was such a fucking _ridiculous_ notion that it was comical. “My friends are so dumb,” Kyle offered, by way of explanation.

Craig raised both of his eyebrows in the way that one would silently communicate _no shit._ But he didn't say anything further about it. Did that mean he only heard Eric yelling about _that_ or had he heard the rest of it? But it didn't really matter, even if Kyle couldn't break himself out of the circular, unhelpful thought process. 

"It'll be ready in a few minutes," Kyle told him, both to inform him of the estimated time until dinner and also to distract himself from his own thoughts. The only sound between them for those few minutes was that of the cooking food. "Looks like the noodles are done," he observed after spooning a single noodle out to test. 

"I can drain them." 

Kyle managed half of a protest but Craig was already hauling the pot off the stove and carrying it to the sink to drain.

Kyle was aware of Craig’s presence in the kitchen, his eyes on his back as he mixed the pasta and sauce together in the pot. “I got it,” Craig said when Kyle went to lift it, stopping him with a brief touch to his lower back. 

And although his hand didn’t linger, the contact made Kyle feel weak in the knees. “Thank you,” he murmured, gripping the handle on the oven door so as to not keel over from just a _touch._

This was... new. 

He waited until Craig was at the table to join him, chugging down the rest of his Gatorade and grabbing a new bottle on the way. “I hope it’s alright,” Kyle said, “It’s just.” He shrugged. “Food.” 

“I’ve been, like, hungry as _fuck_ today so I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Kyle nodded, and generally not one for conversation over food—what was the _point_ when it was just going to get cold?—he began eating. 

Craig followed suit, and made a satisfied sound after the first bite. "You have a knack for this." 

"All I did was boil water and cook meat. You have an unrefined palate."

 _”Psh.”_ Craig grinned. “You put... I dunno, spices in this, or something? It’s good.” 

“Italian seasoning.” Kyle didn’t know why such a simple compliment made his heart catch like it did. Probably his _stupid_ hormones from not being able to take his _stupid_ medication. 

“Mm.” Craig nodded, and they continued to eat in relative quiet, until— “So what’s the deal with your friend? He watch too many of those movies where they try to make you think the dude’s actually got, you know. A knot?” 

Kyle chewed slowly to keep himself from choking on his laughter. “Like those, um. That Japanese stuff? Probably.”

"Hentai?" 

" _God,_ you're such a fucking weeb, dude." Kyle shook his head with something of a chuckle as he twirled his noodles. 

Craig scoffed. "There's real porn where real people pretend they have knots, _dattebayo._ " 

The first part of the sentence was fine. It wasn't like it was a secret that it existed. Kyle wasn't going to out himself and say _he_ watched it on occasion, but before he could even think about it, Craig threw _that_ shit out at him. This time, Kyle properly choked on his food and proceeded to have a coughing fit. _"Are you trying to kill me?"_

“Absolutely.” Craig’s face bore a stony expression— _too_ serious, in fact. His lips twitched, like he was holding back laughter. _”Gomen-nasai.”_ He smirked into his Gatorade, shoulders twitching as he let out a single, silent chuckle. 

“Shut _up.”_ Kyle wadded up the paper towel which served as his napkin and tossed it across the table at Craig, but not before wiping the corners of his mouth with it. Joking like this with Craig, like it was just any other day, almost made Kyle forget that he was facing certain doom. 

_Almost._

As soon as Kyle finished eating, he put the leftovers in the fridge, rinsed the dirty dishes, and loaded the dishwasher, all while Craig was cleaning and disinfecting the table, stove, and counters. They made a good team, except for the part where Kyle felt the need to flee as soon as he could. 

"Hey," Craig said, effectively stopping Kyle in his tracks as he headed toward the hall. "If you don't have any assignments, do you want to watch something? Netflix just added a bunch of new movies." 

The thing was, Kyle wanted to. Absolutely. Give him the old normal any time, any day. But right now? He was terrified of the prospect. "Um...well." 

"It's fine." Craig could see his hesitation clear as day. "Don't force yourself."

“Look, I’ve gotta—” _tell you that I’m an omega and therefore a liar, and that I’m sorry, and that I’ve literally never found you as attractive as I do right now, and that I can smell you and—_ Kyle exhaled a ragged breath through his nose. “I gotta go to bed. I’m not feeling very well.” 

Craig nodded slowly. “Get some rest, okay?”

"Yeah. Good night." Kyle made a quick retreat to the bathroom to wash his face, brush his teeth, and then went straight to his room. Certain to lock the door behind him, he finally felt a little relieved to have space between the two of them. 

But his situation hadn't exactly improved. He might have been alone in his room, but now he had _nothing_ to prevent him from focusing on how he felt. Which right then, was burning hot, and aching with a need to... 

Rather than finishing the thought, he threw himself onto his bed, shimmying his pants to his knees, and using incognito mode on his phone to open up _AlphaHub._

Headphones. If he didn’t want Craig to get his own earful of what he was watching, he needed headphones. He could _just_ reach his desk, and only if he stretched. He flattened himself against the bed, scooting close to the edge in order to reach his desk. His cock ached, and the pressure, the slight friction of his hardness against soft sheets caused him to throb, caused his thighs to feel wet with slick. 

He bit his lip. Was this heat?

His fingers grasped the cord of his headset, and he immediately tugged, pulling the device over to him. He plugged it into his phone jack. At that moment, he didn't care what he watched. He just needed _something._

Which turned out to be a video of an omega with his face shoved into a pillow while a much larger man, presumably an alpha, pile drove right into him. The physical size difference wasn't exactly interesting to him, but watching that massive, thick alpha cock fill the mewling quim of an omega? That absolutely did.

He propped his phone on his chest and allowed his mind to wander while his hands drifted downward. It would be a lie if he said he hadn’t thought in _depth_ about being taken by an alpha just like the guy on the screen, usually in the dead of night when Craig was fast asleep.

It was something that caused him some internal conflict: in moods like this, he wanted nothing for than to be mercilessly fucked, to be bred, to be filled to the point where he felt like he was going to burst. It was the ramifications that held him back. 

But ramifications didn't matter when it was just a fantasy. And when he was this turned on, he didn't feel a shred of guilt as he wrapped his hand around his dick.

He moaned, and he knew it was louder than he’d hoped, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He stroked himself slowly, teasing the leaking head of his cock as the video played itself to the end. 

_I need that. I want that,_ he thought, watching the omega on screen getting pumped full of a huge alpha load. The alpha on screen stayed inside of him, grasping him by the hips. 

_”Don’t you move, little omega,”_ the guy taunted, _”You’re not going anywhere til you’re knocked up with a whole litter of my pups.”_

“Fuck,” Kyle whispered. It was just corny porn dialog, something he’d laugh at and mock were he in a less horny state, but in that moment, all he could think were three things— 

That he needed _more_ than just his fist around his cock and a finger massaging at his slippery entrance. 

That he needed someone to do that to him, to talk to him like that. 

And, most embarrassingly of all, he wanted to imagine that _someone_ was Craig. 

First, of course, he needed to find another video.

The next video had the omega on his back, with his thighs over the alpha's shoulders. His moans were sharp gasps as he was thoroughly fucked, with long fingers down his throat. 

"Fuck," Kyle repeated, practically salivating over the video. He pressed a finger into himself, two, and slowly fucked himself on his fingers. But it wasn't enough. 

Quickly, he got up and grabbed his toy from his sock drawer and settled back on his bed. He felt absolutely soaked at this point, and wasted no time in pushing the toy inside of himself while pressing down on the button that made it vibrate.

It slipped in so easily, and he moaned softly as he bore down onto it, taking it to the base. It was of average size, a utilitarian, black silicone thing he purchased based on reviews alone, and under normal circumstances only used about once a month, due to the intensity of the vibrations, and the way he always felt thoroughly satiated afterwards. 

But now, even with the vibration turned all the way up and his slick-soaked hand pumping the toy in and out of himself with desperate fervor, it just wasn’t _enough._ Rather than the highest setting providing him with a near-instant, mind blowing orgasm, it felt as if he was only _just_ reaching a particularly stubborn itch in the middle of his back.

He just needed to fuck himself harder, so he all but frantically clicked on another video and thrusted the vibrating toy in and out of himself. 

And another video. And _another._

Each time he felt like he was almost there, but somehow it was still unattainable. 

He heard himself _whimper_ in his frustration, and that was more embarrassing than his inability to satisfy himself.

It was only when he wondered what Craig was doing in the room across the hall that he started to get there. Rather than force down those pesky thoughts of how Craig would sound when he pleasured himself, whether or not his cock was as massive as the guys in the videos—Kyle had a feeling it was, that Craig had a proper alpha dick, huge and girthy, ready to just split him open—and what he’d do to himself, what he would _smell_ like... 

Kyle reveled in them, imagining that Craig was doing essentially the same thing _he_ was.

That was what pushed him over the edge, what helped him finally cross the finish line. His back arched as he came, probably far too loudly, and shot over his chest. 

It was only after his heart stopped racing that he realized the back of his phone was covered in his cum, but fortunately he had a supply of disinfectant wipes in his room.

He cleaned himself quickly, then, with a feeling of dread settling in his stomach, slowly cracked his door and peered into the hallway. 

Nothing, no sign of Craig save for the muted bassline of whatever music he was listening to coming from his room. Thank god. Kyle was in the clear to dash across the hallway to the bathroom, take a piss, wash his hands and just as quickly and carefully run back to his room. 

He wiped down his toy, staring at it before securing it in his drawer once more. If this was how his life was going to be without suppressants, that wouldn’t do. He brought up his phone again. 

_omega heat help products,_ he searched, feeling his face burn.

A bunch of promoted links popped up, but out of principle he scrolled down further to find the real link to something reputable, along with a Reddit thread. 

Reddit suggested specific toys, plush blankets and pillows for _nesting_ which sounded... 

Absolutely revolting. Totally not something he would ever allow himself to do. He was not a bird. 

But he did find this new bedding just in case. He added it to the cart with not much thought beyond regret that it was even a thing he needed to take into consideration. But then he clicked the _bedroom essentials_ tab, which ironically lacked any and all bedroom furniture or bedding. 

What he found instead was a toy that was comparable in both length and width to his arm, from wrist to elbow.

“What the fuck,” he hissed, quickly scrolling past _that_ monstrosity. The next few were much more reasonable, and he added a couple, one a bit larger than the other, to his cart. 

Pressing the _continue shopping_ link, of course, took him back to that... _thing._ Kyle grimaced as he reluctantly clicked the link. It _was_ the staff pick, it had a little seal attached to the picture and everything... 

_Nah._ He pressed the back button.

It was too much. A novelty thing. He didn't need it. He didn't want it. But what if the ones he planned on buying weren’t enough? It took more deliberation than he cared to acknowledge. 

He added it to his cart and quickly checked out before he could talk himself out of it.

He supposed there were worse ways of putting a dent in his COVID-19 stimulus check, but, at the same time, he could think of about forty _better_ ways to blow 400 bucks. He grumbled something indistinct under his breath, and fluffed his pillows before leaning back on them. 

Ugh. Nesting. What the actual fuck was that, _nesting._

The best he could do for the rest of the evening, after swallowing down his nightly half of a suppressant, before slipping into a fitful sleep, was find something to read that had absolutely nothing to do with alphas, omegas, betas, _or_ school. He ended up falling asleep lost in a Stephen King novel on his kindle app, and he dreamed, mercifully, of nothing at all. 

* * *

“Hell’s Pass Hospital, how may I direct your call?” 

“Um... family medicine, please.” Cell phone nestled between his ear and shoulder, Kyle played with a pen, twirling it between his fingers. At least the receptionist at his hometown hospital, where his primary physician resided, was much more chipper than Carol of Unity HealthCo. He had _that_ going for him so far.

"One moment, please," the receptionist said, and transferred him. It was a few moments of the soft outgoing call ringing before another woman answered the phone. 

"Dr. Kels's office. This is Stacie. How may I assist you today?" 

Kyle paced in his room. Why was he unable to just sit still on a phone call? He could start by sitting at his desk, or on his bed, but inevitably, he'd end up pacing. It was nerves, maybe, and he certainly felt frayed over everything that led him to make this call. "Hi, yes, uh, my name is Kyle Broflovski and I was hoping to talk to Dr. Kels about a med change." 

"Dr. Kels is unavailable." 

"Okay. Can I make an appointment with him?" 

"Dr. Kels is scheduled to work in the ICU for the foreseeable future."

Kyle sighed. "Okay. But this is important. Is there anyone I can talk to about this?" 

"If you are available to hold, I can see if the nurse practitioner is available."

“Sure.” _Not like I have anything else to do,_ he reminded himself. He put his phone on speaker as he held, and scrolled through r/AskOmegas. It was several minutes before the nurse answered and, when she did, Kyle ensured that he took her off speaker. 

“Hello, this is Anne Mephesto, the nurse practitioner is unavailable, but I’m an R.N. for Dr. Kels if you’d be fine with speaking to me.” She has a raspy voice, and the name _Mephesto_ made Kyle roll his eyes. Surely she was related to that quack scientist up the hill in his hometown. Maybe a niece or something. 

“Oh. Yeah, that’s fine.” 

“Confirm your name and date of birth, please.” 

“Kyle Broflovski, five, twenty-six, ninety-eight,” he rattled off.

"Thank you, Mr. Broflovski. And you are looking into a med change for," she paused, clearly looking over his file. "Suppressitor, I presume?" 

"Yeah. I mean, it's what I prefer taking but I haven't been able to get my prescription filled." 

She sounded bored. "Uh-huh, that would be because we're in a global pandemic. There's a national shortage on all omega suppressants right now." 

"Surely there's something that can be done. I need it." 

"What makes your need for that medication more important than someone else's? _All_ of us are making sacrifices right now." 

Was he really that entitled, or was she being an asshole? He honestly couldn't be certain. "Look. My roommate. He's an alpha, and he's not on anything to help with ruts."

“You’re an unmarried omega rooming with an alpha. Maybe you should have thought about the possible consequences before—”

“I just want to see if there’s a different medication I can switch to for the duration of the quarantine,” Kyle enunciated through gritted teeth, massaging his temples.

"I just told you that there wasn't. Not from us. Both the hospital and pharmacies in South Park are cleared out. Not to stop the heat from happening. Pamprin or Midol for pain as directed." 

He was going to bang his head against the wall. He really, truly was. "Okay." 

"Is there anything else I can help with?"

"Apparently not." 

"Very well. Thank you for calling." It sounded like she was about to hang up, and then: "Oh, and Mr. Broflovski? You truly are a unique specimen. You should feel grateful."

Kyle punched his pillow. “Thank you,” he spat, flatly. “Thanks _so_ much for all your help, ma’am.” 

Nurse Mephesto had to be dense to not pick up the bitter sarcasm drenching Kyle’s every word. “Oh, absolutely. You know, Dr. Kels’ obstetrician services are among the best in the county, should you choose to conceive.” 

Kyle’s mouth fell open. How fucking _dare_ she even— “I was told he’s working in the ICU. And I’m _not_ planning to conceive.” He shut his eyes, and groaned. “And even if I _was,_ which I’m _not,_ I literally don’t live there, I only go there when I see my parents and I literally can’t leave my fucking _house_ so I—“ 

“Sir, I don’t see a need for that kind of language.”

"I didn't see a need to need for you to be a condescending bitch to me, Cheryl, but here we are." 

"I am terminating this call, now." 

Kyle didn't care. He hit the end call button, hopefully before she did, and was resigned to the fact he was just going to have to find a new doctor and never go there again.

The sheer anger he felt toward this situation, towards Nurse Mephesto, and fucking Carol from the insurance company, and his own _stupid_ biology, and still having homework for a stupid _gen ed_ that he was _never_ going to use in the real world, and the fact that it’d been two days and his package hadn’t arrived yet, instilled in him a fierce determination. And when Kyle got determined, a solution _would_ be found, at any cost. 

He googled _same day telehealth Colorado_ and, after a few dead ends, found a clinic that would take his insurance and secured himself an appointment. Three bottles of Gatorade, one slapped-together British Literature reaction paper, and several Craig-avoiding trips to the bathroom later, and he’d secured himself a webcam meeting with a no-nonsense ob/omega/gyn based out of Denver. 

All in all, it was painless. They couldn’t guarantee that the alternative suppressant would be in stock— _that_ was all in the hands of his pharmacy—nor that it would be as effective at reducing scent, alpha scent receptors, or libido as Suppresitor, but it was _something._

The next step was calling the pharmacy. The customer service itself was pleasant, but the response was all together disappointing: "Unfortunately we are completely out of that medication." 

"Seriously?" More to himself than anything: "What am I supposed to do?" 

"Depending on how alternative you want to go, that medication uses properties found in garlic for its effectiveness. You might find that garlic oil tablets might help...but we don't have those either."

Which was how he found himself reading through someone's homeopathic medicine blog for something that claimed to be an _all natural heat remedy._

 _When Todd and I bonded in 1996 (I know that makes me an old lady! Time certainly does fly!), we decided that we weren’t going to become dependent on Big Pharma for managing my heats._

Kyle groaned, and scrolled through several paragraphs of backstory, forcibly quelling his anger at the obvious fundamentalist Christian and right-wing conspiracy undertones to this lady’s blog, until finally he found the recipe.

It called for a number of herbs and spices he didn't have, like yarrow and turmeric, but surely using what he'd had would work. And so he went to the kitchen, creating some concoction with olive oil and minced garlic. It smelled nice, anyway. 

But the next part was applying it to his neck and throat, and behind his ears.

Craig wasn’t in the kitchen. In fact, Craig wasn’t in the apartment at all. Kyle couldn’t smell him. 

“Fuck it, might as well,” he mumbled to himself as he slathered the paste behind his ears, then to the appropriate places in his neck where his scent glands were supposed to be. His hair was sitting at shoulder length, and although he usually wore it in a bun, it was long enough that it could cover the chunks of garlic that cling to his skin, and with as curly as it was, surely coming in contact with the olive oil couldn’t hurt, either. 

Just as soon as he’d applied it and sat down on the sofa, feeling no different other than the fact that he smelled like an Italian restaurant and was probably a complete idiot for trying this, the lock turned in their front door, and Craig poked his head in.

"Oh, hey," Craig said, pushing the door open further. His hands were full, and there were several massive boxes at his feet. "Did you order stuff? Can you give me a hand?" 

Sure enough, that was his stuff alright. "Yeah, no problem," he responded, getting up from the couch. Kyle pulled the massive boxes separating Craig from entry into the apartment. As much as the website said _we ship discreetly,_ his nesting supplies were packaged in a vibrant box that might have well have said _Omegas'R'Us_ in flashing neon lights. 

It was mortifying, but what was worse was realizing that in addition to holding the obvious takeout back, Craig was holding another box. A long, but narrow one that was from the same shipment. _If those were his sex toys, so help him—_

The only thing he could hope was that Craig hadn't noticed. To his credit, he didn't say anything about the boxes, though once he was inside, he frowned in that way he did when he was confused. "Are you making garlic bread? I wish I knew that before I went out. I got us sushi."

Kyle’s stomach audibly growled at the mere mention of sushi, the embarrassment of which almost dwarfed that of the distinct aroma of garlic wafting off the vicinity of his scent glands. He wondered if it was intermingling with whatever he smelled like and, if so, if this so-called _natural remedy_ was just something designed to repel alphas along with the rest of humankind by virtue of making yourself stinky and impossible to be around. “No, but I can if you want, I had uh... pizza rolls earlier.” A lie, and a transparent one, as Craig simply cocked a brow in his direction. 

“Want this in your room?” Craig waved the longer box, causing its contents to knock against each other.

Should he go wash it all off? Or at this point was it soaked into his skin to the point where he would just smell like rancid pizza forever? As awful as that sounded, and as unlikely, there was part of Kyle that hoped it was the case. At least for the time being. Anything to keep Craig from wanting to be around him. 

"Ah. Yeah. Um, all of these boxes just need to go to my room. I can get it, it's fine." 

Except Craig insisted on helping anyway. Fuck his life.

"Sorry, my room is kind of a mess," Kyle offered as they set the boxes on his floor. Really, it wasn't. There were a few empty Gatorade bottles and some crushed up soda cans on his desk, his bed wasn't made, and there was laundry, both clean and dirty, on the floor. Nothing terrible, but he still felt the need to apologize. He and Craig were both somewhat of a neat freak in their own ways. 

Craig just stared at him after setting down the box. His nostrils flared, and Kyle could see his pupils dilate. "It smells really good in here."

It was almost a terrifying admission to hear, because Kyle hadn't sprayed an air freshener in there that day, and as much as he'd been holing up in his room, it was something his room probably desperately needed. 

Kyle didn't want to acknowledge it. Didn't want to have this conversation right here, right now. Didn't want Craig to piece together what items were within those boxes. "I can definitely go for some sushi right now."

Craig's eyes narrowed. "Are you sure you weren't cooking or something? It smells like..." He scrunched up his nose. "Nevermind. Do you need help with your things?" 

"No!" Kyle practically yelled. "Um. _No,"_ he repeated, emphatically. "I'm actually gonna hop in the shower, I think I...." He swallowed. "I think I got some pizza rolls on me or something."  
  
“Okay.” Craig paused, and cocked a brow. His gaze shifted to Kyle’s floor. “You know, I can do your laundry if you want. I don’t mind.”

Kyle’s stomach did a flip. “I don’t, um. That’s okay. Don’t worry about that.” He cleared his throat. “And I’m _fine,”_ he volunteered, apropos of nothing.  
  
“Alright…”

Kyle couldn't let himself think about that tone, or how skeptical Craig seemed right now. He needed him out, and he needed to shower since _apparently_ bathing in garlic and olive oil didn't do anything. "You can eat without me, I don't mind." 

And with that he pushed Craig out, grabbed his towel from the door hook, and bolted to the bathroom.

As he scrubbed himself down, he vowed that it was the last time that he would try some backwoods, anti-vaxx, mommy blog _bullshit_ for his condition, unless it involved slathering himself in something that actually smelled good, like coconut oil, or vanilla, or some other baking ingredient. If an upside existed to being covered in what basically amounted to a nice vinaigrette, it was that it rinsed off easily, didn't linger on his skin long enough for the stench of raw garlic to seep into his pores, and that the olive oil left his skin and hair feeling soft. 

There was no pleasure in that shower and, upon finishing, Kyle dashed across the hall with one towel wrapped around his waist and another around his hair, and his clothing balled into his arms. Sure, the sushi was waiting for him in the next room and of course his stomach was growling, despite the snacks and sandwiches he'd been nibbling on all day, but the packages on his floor seemed to be taunting him. Staring at him. Yelling at him to open them up and check out the contents.

He couldn't resist it. It was the sort of temptation he'd felt many, many years ago when he and his brother had figured out where their parents hid the Chanukah presents. But instead of carefully investigating like he'd done back then, as soon as he was done with his shower, he intended to rip open every single box. 

Which was what he did, after shoving the door behind himself as he reentered his room and changed into shorts. The several massive boxes were filled with plush blankets and pillows in an assortment of blues, greens, and oranges. All were wrapped in plastic, a few were vacuum sealed, and it was oddly satisfying to tear the packaging open and throw piece by piece onto his bed. 

The last box, the one that Craig had carried inside, was filled with the boxes of varying sizes. But with a photo of the item on each box, it was no surprise to him what each of them were. He opened them, leaving the packaging in those boxes for added security, and after running his hands and feeling up the smaller of the toys, he added them to the different hiding spots he had in his dresser. 

The last one, the behemoth he judged himself over purchasing, was stunning. Somehow, it was even larger than what he expected, and he couldn't help but marvel over it. Unfortunately, it was the worst time for him to realize his door hadn't closed all the way. When Craig knocked on it, the force alone was enough for it to open.

"Hey, are you gonna come eat, or—oh. Sorry." 

Crouched on the floor, colossal dildo dangling from his hand, Kyle froze. 

Craig cleared his throat. "There's dinner."

Kyle slowly glanced between the dildo, Craig, and back before finally remembering how to speak and move. "Right. Yeah. I'll, uh. Be right there." 

Craig nodded, before he made his retreat, Kyle felt him glancing between him and the obscene amount of bedding piled. _Fuck_ he was so fucking screwed, wasn't he? 

He shoved the dildo under a pillow and followed Craig out of the room. He shouldn't have said anything about it; there was no need to _justify_ it, when it was so obvious but he couldn't stop himself. "It's a gag gift for one of my friends."

Craig nodded, breathing a bit too evenly through his nose. Kyle knew he was trying not to laugh, that _bastard,_ which only made Kyle want to laugh himself, despite everything. If things were different, they could joke about this. If they weren't in the middle of a global pandemic, if they weren't stuck in quarantine together for the foreseeable future, if he weren't caught in a ridiculous lie about his secondary gender that there was no possible way to get out of, then having his gay roommate walk in on his equally-gay self holding a giant sex toy would be _funny,_ but things _weren't_ different. 

They weren't normal. And they never would be again. 

"I got those soft shell crab rolls you like so much," Craig said, smiling, like he hadn’t just walked in on Kyle brandishing a ludriciously large sex toy.

It was just a smile. It shouldn't have made his heart race. It shouldn't have made him ache with something he could only describe as _disgusting yearning._ But here he was, and he hated it. 

"That sounds amazing," Kyle said, feeling absolutely famished despite his embarrassment. He found the boxes of food laid out on the kitchen counter, but it wasn't until he was right in front of it that he realized that none of it had been touched yet. "Dude, I told you to eat without me." 

Craig shrugged. "Decided to make matcha lattes for us instead."

Kyle whipped his head around to face Craig, giving him an incredulous expression. "You really went all out." 

"It's the closest thing we can get to going to a restaurant." He was glancing at the floor, picking at his fingernail. "Go ahead and, uh, wash your hands and have a seat, I'll bring it out." 

"Okay?" Kyle's face twisted in utter bemusement. As he washed his hands, he wondered why Craig was being so goddamn nice to him. Granted, Craig was _always_ nice. This was something they _could've_ ended up doing during quarantine even if Kyle hadn't been sneaking around like a weirdo, been acting all squirrelly about hiding everything about his predicament from his friend. But _would_ they have?

It was best not to think about these things. All it was going to do was add to his guilt and overall feeling of absolute _shittiness_ when he was already miserable as it was. He could let himself enjoy this meal for what it was without overthinking, couldn't he? 

He settled down at the table to see there was already a latte in his spot, crafted in his favorite mug. The food was transferred to serving platters with the presentation still intact. Craig was walking back to the table with plates and any necessary utensils. He set one plate down in front of Kyle, then took a seat. 

As they helped themselves to the food, Kyle couldn't shake the feeling that this was somehow bigger, or more formal than just a normal takeout dinner. 

"I feel underdressed," Kyle said as a joke, even though right then he really _was_ aware that he hadn't bothered to put a shirt on.

"Are you cold?" Craig was already shucking off the zip-up hoodie that covered his t-shirt before Kyle could respond in the affirmative, and walking across the table to hand it to him. "You look cold, here." 

Kyle blinked at him, quickly. 

"You can wear it, you know, however long." His gaze darted around, nervously, looking at everything other than Kyle as he returned to his seat, and shoved a piece of salmon roll in his mouth. 

The hoodie was a soft, well-worn fleece of navy blue with a tiny NASA logo embroidered on the left chest. He recognized it as Craig's favorite, and the smell of it... 

_Fuck,_ it took all the willpower in the universe for Kyle not to stuff his face in it right at the table and inhale that musky alpha scent of his. It was a test of mental fortitude as it was to put it on without moaning, but he succeeded; the softness of the sweatshirt and the smell of it felt simultaneously like torture, and like home.

"Thank you," Kyle murmured, staring at his plate as it was the safest place to keep his gaze. He was probably red in the face right now, and while there was nothing he could do to hide it, this was the easiest way to cope. "It's warm and comfortable." 

He wanted to wear it forever. He wanted to hug it against himself and sleep in it and wear it until it no longer smelled like Craig. But he knew better than to say that, or to say anything else for that matter. 

At this point he was just liable to embarrass himself. So he ate his delicious food, and drank his matcha, and tried to remember how to act normally around Craig.

They chatted while they ate, mostly about school, for which Kyle was grateful. Craig joked at length about his statistics professor, who taught Zoom classes in her sports bras and owned at least six cats who enjoyed hopping onto her laptop and sniffing at the webcam. And although Kyle still felt overwhelmed, and embarrassed, and on edge, he started to relax after a while. To let himself smile again.

It was nice. And then the food was gone, and they cleaned up like they always did. When the kitchen was cleaned, Kyle washed his hands for what felt like the hundredth time that day and appraised the counter and tables. 

"If you're not planning on going back to your room," Craig said slowly. "We could watch something. Or play a game."

“Oh...” Kyle leaned against the counter, and played with a fraying cuff on Craig’s hoodie. He had a good five inches of height on Kyle, and was tall and broad enough that he wore a size larger, that the sleeves hung over Kyle’s hands. He crossed his arms, wrapping the hoodie around him, like a hug. 

It made him practically shiver with how nice it felt, and how the scent surrounded him. 

“I think I might turn in,” he murmured.

"Oh." Craig sounded disappointed, and Kyle felt a twinge of guilt, but it was the best option he has right now. "Alright. Get some rest." 

"Thank you," he responded. "For dinner. And everything."

Craig nodded, eyes softening. "Of course." 

"Cool, well." Suddenly hyper aware of his own heartbeat, Kyle turned, heading toward his room. His skin prickled with each brush of Craig's sweatshirt. 

"Hey." 

He spun around again. 

"Let me know if you need anything, okay?" Craig licked his lips, cautiously darting his eyes in Kyle's direction. "Anything. Even your laundry."

The way Craig said that word, _anything,_ made Kyle feel weak in the knees. Winded, in a way. And suddenly very _wet._ Kyle bit his lip, nodding in affirmation before returning to his room. Craig was going to have to take that nod for what it was, because Kyle was worried that if he spoke right then, he'd ask for something he shouldn't have. 

He locked his bedroom door and shoved the pile of bedding aside so he could lay down with a shuddering sigh. He covered his face with one of his hands. Craig's scent wafted around his face, invaded his nostrils, and drove him wild. Arousal hit him like a brick, and so strongly and so suddenly that it was the only thing he could concentrate on. 

His other hand slid downward as he spread his legs, bent at the knee so his feet were flat on the mattress. His fingers slid under the waistband of his shorts and boxers, past his cock, into slick warmth.

With a shaky hand he bunched the fabric of Craig's hoodie underneath his nose, inhaling deeply. Perhaps when he wasn't so far gone with arousal he could take his time analyzing the facets of Craig's unique scent, picking out each and every individual pheromone as if it were a love potion but now, _oh,_ now all that preoccupied his mind was sheer longing, and utter _need._

_Anything,_ Craig had said. If Kyle would have asked him to come to his room, would he? If Kyle would have told him just how badly his slick gushed into his boxers, just how much he was craving something, some _one_ inside of him, would Craig have told him that he could be that person for him? The thought made Kyle moan, and he shoved Craig's hoodie into his mouth as he did so, as he continued to prod into his slick entrance.

It didn't take long for him to realize that his fingers weren't enough. As far as fingers go, they were long, but they weren't long enough, and far too narrow. He needed _more,_ and the more he wanted was one of the toys he'd hidden in his dresser. 

But the problem there was that he hadn't disinfected them. Soap and water was the ideal, but that meant leaving his room. Even if it were possible to just stick his head out to make sure the coast was clear and bolt to the bathroom, he was wary to do so. 

He had wipes, though. That would have to be good enough right now. Kyle felt like he was in a haze when he sat up and walked to his dresser. He grabbed one of the new toys, wiped it down and settled back on his bed. He lost the shorts and boxers, but left the hoodie on.

Although it wasn't the biggest of the bunch, Kyle still marveled at the thickness of the dark blue toy, which increased from the round, tapered head into a bumpy-textured shaft that he had a feeling was going to feel _awesome_ inside of him. The base was sturdy, flaring out with a suction cup at the very end. He was sure his face was positively glowing red as he pressed it against the wall at a height he figured would be feasible for him. 

To his surprise, it easily stuck to the lightly textured paint of his bedroom walls.

It held, even as he eased onto it. Holding onto the foot-end of the bed frame, Kyle held himself steady and moved, fucking himself with increasing vigor. He buried his face into his arm, inhaling more of that addicting alpha scent as he moaned.

It didn't take long until the ridges of that thick toy turned him into a twitching, panting mess. Slick dripped down the backs of his thighs as the curve of the tip assailed his prostate when he took it fully inside him, all the way to the base, and rocked against it. He pumped his cock with equal fervor, knowing that he surely wouldn't hold on for much longer, not with Craig's scent surrounding him. He came with a shudder, whining and drooling into Craig's hoodie. As he shot onto his bedspread, his cock pulsated, and his hole clenched around the toy, milking it like his body _knew_ how badly he wanted to be bred, as if a piece of silicone would be able to knock him up like his anatomy so craved.

He was still trembling as he settled back on his bed, panting as he tried to catch his breath. For the moment, he sated himself just enough that he felt like he could make it through to the next... however long, before his stupid biology got the best of him again. 

Kyle also knew he would need to clean up his mess, but he wasn't going to rush the post-orgasm relaxation he felt right now. He was going to milk it for all it was worth, just laying there and catching up with his phone notifs. 

There was a text from Stan, that was literally just a photo of a squirrel outside his window, which was pretty normal for Stan. 

_Lol aww,_ Kyle texted back. _Wyd? Craig gave me his hoodie and I wound up fucking myself with a dildo while wearing it_

Stan's response was immediate. _dude tmi wtf_ 👀🔥 _nice tho. things are going good with him then?_

 _Idk_ Kyle chewed on his lip, then fired off another text. _He's acting kinda weird?_

_how so_  
_have you guys_  
_you know_  
🍆 🍑  
  
Kyle groaned. _Ummm no. But he bought me dinner and made matcha and he helped me with some packages I ordered_ _I had to order a bunch of shit because apparently I'm supposed to start nesting which is pretty fucking fucked up dude wtf IS that shit._

_Anyway he gave me his hoodie at dinner and he offered to do my laundry and idk he's being weird._

_omg nesting_ 😭 _it's the best. i nested with nichole before and it was the biggest cuddlefest. i know it seems weird right now but really it's great. but anyway that all sounds pretty normal considering? taking care of your omega when they're about to get into a heat cycle is probably the most gratifying thing an alpha can do_

_That's the thing. I haven't talked to him about it._

_what. DUDE. i told you, you needed to ages ago. do you have any idea what he's probably dealing with right now? he absolutely knows what you're doing and lowkey not communicating is a major dick move_

_"God,"_ Kyle grumbled, dropping his head to his mattress with such force that it bounced a bit. 

_Wym he knows what I'm doing?_ Texted as if he didn't know exactly what Stan meant by that.

 _nevermind that with what you told me you were having to do with your meds, he can smell it on you. but masturbating in the same apartment? it's amplifying that probably by 100x. he knows. it's affecting him, and you haven't even bothered to talk to him about it :/_

It was something he knew, technically, but he hadn't thought much about. It'd been hard to think about anything beyond what was directly affecting him. He _was_ an asshole, fuck. 

_I haven't found the right time to talk to him about it._

_kyle. you have to ASAP. if it makes it any easier, i think if he's doing all of that he's sweet on you._

His heart skipped a beat. The idea that Craig might actually be into him was a surprisingly inviting one. It wasn't something that Kyle had given much thought—well, at least nothing that he'd allowed himself to dwell upon for too long. He entertained somewhat of a crush on Craig when they'd first met their freshman year, but as they became closer, Kyle found that it had waned. He'd always recognized that Craig was attractive, but the crush itself had waned significantly—after all, they were both busy with school. And they were friends. It was much less messy to stay friends. 

_You think??_

_yea dude. tbh kinda seems like he's courting you_

What did courting even mean during a time like this? What was the difference in just being nice and opting to be the single person who has contact with the outside world and courting? It was a lot more than he wanted to think about. What if Stan was wrong? Kyle didn't know whether he wanted Stan to be right or wrong. He just didn't want to jeopardize what had been a good arrangement and friendship. It was probably too late for that. _Yeah, IDK, I kind of doubt it._

_why?_

_Because we're friends._

_kyle._

_???_

_you like him_

He groaned again. 

🖕 _no._  
_He's my roommate. And my FRIEND. So what if he happens to be a sexy alpha._

 _he's really fucking hot, he's one of your best friends, you get along well enough to live together. there's nothing wrong with liking someone you connect to like that, so why are you denying it?_

_Dude. There's nothing to deny. Sure, I crushed on him for five seconds like three years ago, but that has nothing to do with this._

_be honest. did the crush go away, or did you convince yourself that it would never work so now you can't see it? dude you told me you guys sometimes cuddle while watching movies_

Kyle rolled onto his stomach and groaned out his frustration into his pillow. He stayed that way until he absolutely had to breathe, and it was only after he gasped for air that he responded. _That's a bullshit example and you know it. WE'VE cuddled more times than I can remember, Stan._

 _yeah and i know you and if it isn't me you're not exactly the type for platonic cuddles_

_UGH._

_see i'm not wrong_

🙄

 _please just promise me you'll talk to him?_ 💙 _even if none of what i'm anticipating goes down happens, you do need to talk to him about it. contingency plans and whatnot._

_Yeah._

_kyle._

_Promise, dude._

_love ya man_

_Pshhh whatever_ 😘 

Kyle exhaled in a soft half-laugh, relaxing slightly as he rolled onto his side. If there was anyone in the world he could open up to and trust with things like this, it was Stan. His longtime best friend was the only person he felt comfortable confiding in about _any_ of the sexual stuff he'd done in the past, about any of the crushes he'd ever had in his lifetime, and all of the newfound discoveries in this situation that'd been forced upon him were no different.

He watched his phone light up, as Stan sent off a string of emojis that indicated that at least for now, it was the end of the conversation. That was fine, because he'd had more than enough to think about, even if it wasn't pleasant. 

Kyle knew he needed to talk to Craig and lay everything out for him, and that every delay was putting both of them at risk in different ways...but it sucked. There wasn't an easy way to have that conversation. 

Regardless, he couldn't do it now. So he just laid there, dwelling on it.

* * *

He wished he could say that he slept soundly through the night, but he hadn't. Kyle was plagued with dreams of Craig—highly inappropriate ones, at that, which caused him to awaken with a raging erection and slicked thighs. A quick shower took care of that, but he found himself ruminating on his conversation with Stan as he cleaned himself.

He was resolved to the fact that he had to, but _how_ was something else entirely. Kyle hoped that it would just happen organically, or that out of nowhere he'd come up with how to bring it up. 

Shower over, he got dressed, and put forth the effort he would've if he was going to school. Maybe that would somehow make everything easier to deal with, if _that_ was normal. When he emerged, he made his way to the kitchen and started a large pot of coffee. Craig drank about as much of it as he did, and usually Craig woke early as well so he figured it wouldn't go to waste.

But, for once, Craig wasn't waiting for him in the living room, or kitchen. Nor was there faint music emanating from his bedroom, as was customary if Craig were wrapped up in an early study session. Although it was quite unlike Craig to sleep in unless he'd had a night of heavy drinking, Kyle resisted the urge to check on him, instead enjoying the peaceful silence of the kitchen. He poured himself a large glass of orange juice and appraised the contents of their refrigerator while the coffee brewed. 

The nice thing to do would be to make some breakfast for Craig—after all, he'd been nice enough to purchase last night's takeout, and Kyle was about to tell him some news that might ruin both their days, weeks, or even months. The least he could do would be to soften the blow with some cheese omelets.

Assuming Craig would undoubtedly be up any time now, even if he seemed to still be sleeping, Kyle went ahead to pull out the eggs, a whisk, and everything else he needed. He was patient in cooking the omelets, letting them cook as they needed without fussing at them with a spatula like he was always tempted to do. 

Craig still wasn't up when Kyle finished, and it left him torn between waking him up versus letting the eggs get cold. But if Craig was sleeping, he probably needed it, and it wasn't like either of them needed to adhere to a schedule. So he wrapped Craig's plate in foil in hopes that it would stay warm that way, and settled onto the couch with his plate and cup of coffee while quietly watching television.

It didn't take long for Craig to stagger out of his room, rubbing his eyes, hair sticking up in all directions, wearing a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off which was emblazoned with the faded logo of his high school's science club, and those low-slung grey joggers that always drew Kyle's eye downward—front, back, either way, they did Craig's body a huge service. He grunted out what was likely a sleepy greeting, but immediately veered into the bathroom. Kyle could hear the running of the sink, the flush of the toilet, the whirr of his electric toothbrush, but no shower; it was an indication that Craig was just doing the bare minimum to get ready for the day.

When Craig emerged, he headed to the kitchen, immediately getting himself a cup of coffee. From where Kyle sat on the couch, he could see enough of the kitchen to see Craig's back as he hunched over the coffee pot. "Your breakfast is on the counter. Sorry if it's cold." 

Craig looked over his shoulder to Kyle briefly, and even though his expression was stoic, it seemed soft. "You made me breakfast?" 

Kyle shrugged. "It's just eggs."

"I love eggs." There was a similar softness to Craig's deep monotone, and with that came the sound of clinking flatware, then the pop of the toaster as Craig prepared his plate. He balanced it carefully in one hand, his full cup of coffee in the other, and strode to the living room, joining Kyle on the couch. 

Kyle felt a pang in his chest upon noticing that Craig smelled as alluring as ever, upon the realization that his scent was a comfort, a wonderful welcome to his morning. He hadn't noticed until then that he'd wrapped himself in Craig's hoodie when he'd gotten dressed for the day, and part of him was tempted to press himself against Craig, to wrap his arms around his roommate and rub against him and hold him tight to ensure that the hoodie would always smell like the man he fantasized of making his alpha. 

Shit. He was a hundred different layers of fucked, wasn't he? 

"What's good," Craig asked, too casually, chewing on his omelet and crossing his legs ankle-over-knee. "Whatcha watchin."

He needed to keep cool. Calm and normal, and to do that he needed to just keep his gaze on the television. "Just some random YouTuber. He reads Reddit posts." Chromecast made it so much more convenient; he could watch or listen, and still do whatever on his phone. 

"Cool." 

It wasn't really, but if Craig thought it was... that was neat. He guessed. "So, um. I was wanting to talk to you."

Craig nodded, and took a slow sip of his coffee. 

Kyle could smell the cinnamon he sprinkled in it, which for some reason struck him funny—cinnamon in coffee was such a _Craig_ thing, and he found it endearing. Perhaps he would've commented on it if his heart wasn't about to jump out of his throat. He took a breath. "So." 

"You're an omega, aren't you."

He felt his mouth go dry immediately. He opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn't. Instead, he nodded. 

"I've smelled it on you lately." 

Craig's tone was guarded in a way that Kyle couldn't read, and the sheer panic of that was enough to kickstart his words again. "I'm sorry. I never wanted you to find out this way. Or at all. I'm really sorry, _please_ don't think less of me—"

"I'm not upset." Craig shifted so his back was against the arm of the couch, and his legs crossed in front of him. He clutched his coffee cup with both hands, and stared into it. There was a stillness to his expression, like he was deliberately suppressing a smile. "The president is a piece of shit with all that misinformation about suppressants. I can't imagine how you're feeling right now, not being able to..." He trailed off, and swallowed. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Kyle winced. It was a fair question to ask, and one he anticipated Craig asking, but it didn't make it any easier. "Because." He ran a hand through his hair. "I didn't want you to think less of me. No one takes omegas seriously, and this whole time I'd been telling you I was a beta. We're talking years. It's not easy to just...you know." 

Craig took a long sip of his coffee. "I'd never think less of you, Kyle."

Letting out a huge breath, Kyle sagged against the back of the couch. It was a relief, to say the least, even though there remained that nagging voice in the back of Kyle's head that told him that Craig was just trying to be nice. He tried to tamp it down, however, but that meant that he continued to stumble on his words. "I'm still absolutely fine with going to my parents' for the rest of this shit, you know, because if you're not comfortable with the idea of sharing a space with me anymore I'd _completely_ understand, and—"

"No." The word came sharply and abrupt. Craig was looking at him now, instead of staring at his coffee. "I want you to stay here, as long as you want to be here. It'll be fine." 

Kyle wasn't so sure, but Craig said so, and Kyle wanted to believe him. "Will it?"

"Dude. We've been friends since freshman year. You're one of my _best_ friends. That's not gonna change." It was a non-answer, and from the way Craig shifted, he knew it as well as Kyle did.

As much as he'd dwelled on having this conversation, he hadn't thought about what the resolution would feel like. He laid everything out, finally coming clean to Craig and now...he didn't feel better. He just felt uneasy. That wasn't the fault of Craig, or anything other than his own inability to navigate this situation. 

"With the suppressant shortage. What have you been doing? Skipping doses?"

Kyle shook his head. "No. But I halved my pills to try to stretch them out as long as possible. I don't know when I'll be able to get more. I've tried everything."

Craig eyed him thoughtfully. "How many do you have left?" 

"Nine." Kyle knew that by heart. He counted them every night, fruitlessly hoping that somehow they'd multiplied. "But I don't think it's even working, dude—I honestly think I'm already in heat, and it fucking _sucks."_ He felt the familiar flush of embarrassment begin to creep up the back of his neck, pricking at his ears. 

"Yeah, no, you're not in heat yet."

Kyle blanched. "What." He didn't know what was worse: that everything he was experiencing now _wasn't_ the worst yet to come, or the fact that Craig knew. 

Craig tapped his nose, then finished off his coffee. "Maybe you're more sensitive to scent now, or just have a stronger libido. But it's not heat."

"Fuck." Kyle let out a solitary, barking laugh. "Well that's just great." 

Craig's eyes darted to Kyle's, then away again. His fingers twitched, almost as if he were going to reach out, but thought better of it. "You're gonna be okay."

Kyle tried to search his face, tried to understand _how_ Craig could speak so certainly when the only thing certain about this was that there was a terrifying road ahead of him. "I don't know." 

There was a moment of silence interrupted by Craig clearing his throat. "I'll call my doctor's office today and see if I can get something."

"What if you can't?" Kyle blurted out before he could stop himself. 

"Then we'll take it from there." Craig's brows knit in the center of his forehead, and he studied Kyle's face, which just made him blush harder. "Hey, I have something for you. Wait here." 

"Obviously I've got places to be, so that's gonna be difficult," Kyle tried to joke, dryly. 

Fortunately, it drew a chuckle from Craig. "Yeah. Same. Places to be and people to see."

Kyle had no idea what he was in for, and could only watch Craig walk away for so long before he disappeared into his room. He leaned back, sinking into the couch. When Craig returned, it was with a volume of some kind in his hand. 

"Um, so. This is for you," Craig said, shifting his weight awkwardly as he handed the book to Kyle and sat back down on the couch. 

Kyle gawked, looking over what he held: a first edition copy of _The Terrance and Phillip Story,_ signed by Terrance. Practically in mint condition. "Dude, _what the hell?"_

"I know it's signed for Craig, but...I don't know. I want you to have it. Pretty sure you love them more than I do." 

He was speechless. "I don't even know what to say. I love it." 

It hit him, then. Craig really _was_ courting him, wasn't he?

"I'm glad." Craig's lips turned up into a slight smile, and he drew in a slow, even breath as if he were steadying himself; then, he scooted closer to Kyle and, before Kyle knew it, he was enveloped in a hug.

Craig was warm and smelled so nice. Kyle returned the embrace, burying his face into Craig's shoulder. Was that too much? Too intimate? He wasn't sure. But Craig didn't say anything about it when he pulled away. 

"I'm going to call my doctor." 

Kyle nodded, and after Craig left the room, he kicked his legs up onto the couch and started browsing the internet. One rabbit hole led to another, and soon Kyle was reading _first times_ between alphas and omegas.

**aj9872164**

_it was the best sex i've ever had in my entire LIFE. i have never felt such a connection with a man i felt like he really cared about my pleasure as well as his._ **EDIT** _i don't know why everyone is downvoting me, all i did was answer the question??_

**omegalul**

_probably because your experience isn't everyone's. honestly it's really disgusting that you're out here spouting bootlicking shit without even considering the ramifications. do you have any idea just how many omegas' lives and bodies are destroyed by alpha scum?_

**Aj9872164**

_I was literally only talking about my experience._

**omegalul**

_yeah, well alphas destroy lives. 2 comments down someone mentioned having to get reconstructive surgery_

Kyle grimaced. His thumb hovered over the option to expand the rest of the comment thread, and he was torn between pressing it, swiping back button and finding something else entirely to read, or scrolling down and torturing himself some more. 

Ultimately, the latter won out, his curiosity getting the best of him. His stomach fluttered uneasily as he continued perusing the thread. 

**RegretfulOThrowaway**

_F/30 omega here. I don't know why anybody would voluntarily put their body through the experience of mating with an alpha. Or their mind, for that matter. I still cry over allowing myself to be with him. Every day. I come from a traditional religious family, so I was always told don't worry, you're an omega, your body will accommodate your alpha even if he's too big for you to handle, but guess what, that wasn't true. It hurt so bad, and even though we tried to go slow I just couldn't get used to it. I will spare the gory details here but I found myself unable to properly walk or exercise without pain for weeks. And all I had to show for it was attaching to him and forming a bond for him to divorce me and toss me out for another more worthy, more fertile omega... and a son without a father. My ability to bond with others has been permanently damaged from using up my bond with a man who did not care about me, and sometimes I wonder about my body, too._

**PM_ME_YOUR_CORGI_PAWS**

_I want to preface this by saying that I'm terribly sorry that you went through such a traumatic situation. I know that the pain is real, the mental effects are lasting. But, in the nicest way possible I recommend that you seek therapy. It has been scientifically disproven that we are only able to bond with one person in our lives. I wish you the best, please don't think that I mean anything malicious by this comment._

**OhMegAwd**

_I had dreams. Aspirations. An entire life plan. I didn't want to be a victim to my secondary sex and I spent my entire life trying to do everything right. What I didn't account for was for all of it to get derailed because of my alpha. I didn't seek her out or look for a mate. It just happened. Now I have no degree, no job (SAHM). And don't get me wrong, I love my kids. But they were never part of the plan. Do you know how utterly soul destroying it is, to be stuck with a life you never actually wanted?_

The last comment in particular, despite the horrors of the others, struck him deep. He had goals. Plans. The sheer determination to make something of himself. What if that wasn't enough? The thought of losing everything made him feel queasy.

There was no way he could handle reading any more of this thread, not while his insides continued churning like they were, not when his chest hitched like it had and his eyes welled with tears that he was determined to contain. Stupid fucking suppressants, or lack thereof, and how _emotional_ they made him. He'd always been somewhat susceptible to mood swings, quick to anger on a good day as it was, but he'd never been one to just _cry_ like that.

The smartest thing he did following his mistake of reading too much, was to close the thread. He sank further into the couch, tabbing to a different app to watch short videos of cute animals, cute _anything_ to get his mind off what felt like a very rational and valid fear of having his life ruined. Everything was held together by a threadbare string, liable to break at any point. 

All it took was one mistake, one misstep where Craig was concerned, and his life was over.

His lip quivered. Videos from the Denver Zoo during lockdown, of their zookeepers allowing their flock of flamingos to wander around the isolated pathways of the zoo, of their hippo splashing around in his pool, weren't doing anything to alleviate the dread and anxiety he felt. His vision went blurry, and he let his phone drop to his chest, the video shutting itself off as he pressed the heels of his hands into his face. Tears escaped through the corners of his eyes as he silently wept.

The floodgates were open now, and he couldn't make himself stop. At least it was quiet, but it was still ugly crying in the living room, when his roommate could emerge at any point and see him like this. Of course, it was his luck that when he did hear the click of Craig's door opening, he still hadn't managed to calm himself down. 

"So, I've got some bad ne—Kyle? Are you alright?" Craig's tone changed immediately, and Kyle felt him moving his legs so he could sit on the couch with him. 

He shook his head wordlessly, and after trying to go through the motions of calming down, he tried to speak. "No, I— I'm just." Why did trying to explain what was wrong make him cry harder? He was _pathetic._

"I'll be right back, okay?" Craig's hand lingered, large and warm, on Kyle's shin after giving it a kind pat. The touch was instantly comforting, and Kyle nodded, finally able to take in breaths between sobs, even when Craig disappeared to the kitchen for several minutes. Kyle heard the ding of the microwave, the open and shut of the fridge, and smelled something lovely and sweet. 

Sniffling, he sat up. His eyes were raw, and the room was still a bit wavy through his tears. He swiped at the tears on his cheeks. 

"Here. It's a mug cake." Kyle found a warm mug placed in his hands, and a glass of milk set in front of him.

The warmth felt relaxing, and he held it close, breathing in the steam from the cake. "Thank you," he murmured, and while it was still hot, ate a bite. At first, he couldn't really taste anything, not when his throat felt as gross as it did from crying. But the heat was comforting, even more so when followed down by cold milk. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" 

Kyle shook his head. "It's just. Everything. I don't know what's wrong with me, I'm not even a _crier._ " 

Craig sighed. "Then I really hate to drop more bad news on you. But my doc said it requires blood work for a prescription, and right now they aren't doing anything that counts as 'elective.'"

His words hit Kyle like a punch to the stomach, but he managed to hold it together—the cake helped, at least; he was able to concentrate on chewing . He inhaled raggedly after washing down another bite with milk, trying to steady his breathing, to calm himself further. "We need a plan," he managed to get out. "Because." He swallowed thickly. "Because, um, when my heat.... you know."

Craig sat stiffly on the couch, hands pressed on his knees. He nodded, and Kyle could see his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. "It might be a good idea, once you're closer, for us to get in the habit of staying in our own rooms, and utilizing the common areas one at a time." He paused, frowning, as he glanced over to Kyle. "I'll be honest. I think you're... You're attractive, you know. Frankly that doesn't even cover it, but nothing is going to happen that you don't want to happen."

Kyle's heart skipped a beat. "You think I'm attractive?" 

"I do."

Not only was he blushing, but Kyle also couldn't stand the fact that he was. He covered his face with his hands in an attempt to hide his embarrassment, which only embarrassed him more. "Seriously? Not just because of suddenly finding out that I'm an omega and am stinking up the place?"

Craig rolled his eyes, but the small grin on his face betrayed him. "Kyle." 

Some sort of vague, jumbled noise emitted from Kyle's chest and nose. He felt as if he were going to squirm off the couch, that his body would somehow turn into a mass of nerves and skitter down the hallway. "Craig," he squeaked.

"Finding you attractive is completely independent of your status," Craig said earnestly. He reached over, setting his hand on his shoulder. After a moment, it slid back, rubbing slow circles over Kyle's shoulder blades.

Kyle nearly choked on his bite of cake at the contact; Craig's touch was electricity that made the hairs on the nape of Kyle's neck prickle, made his every nerve ending tingle and stir. He managed to get a grip on himself with another swig of milk, but he remained stiff even after he swallowed down another couple swigs, another mouthful of cake, as if relaxing into Craig's touch would cause him to make a complete fool of himself. 

"It's mutual," he blurted out. 

_Well, too late on the making-a-fool-of-yourself front,_ he thought.

"Cool," Craig replied, shooting him a lopsided grin that was absolutely going to kill him. How was it far at all for him to be this hot? 

It took Kyle a moment to compose himself. He cleared his throat, eyes darting over toward Craig. "Do you think isolating from each other will be enough?"

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Craig gave a hesitant nod. 

"Because you really smell good and, um." Kyle winced. He was doing it again, vomiting up words before he could stop himself.

"Nothing will happen that you, right now, don't want to happen." Craig reiterated. Maybe if he repeated it enough times, eventually both of them would believe it. "We can Febreeze the living room and kitchen as needed. That should help." 

The thing was, Kyle didn't want any of this to happen. He didn't want to deal with a heat with his alpha best friend in the same apartment. He didn't want to go home and suffer a heat around his family. He didn’t want _any_ of it.

"Yeah, that should help," Kyle echoed absently. "I have homework, so..." 

"Oh." The hand on his back was gone, and Kyle wanted to cry. "Do you want to do something when you're done?" Craig cleared his throat. "Like maybe pizza and a movie, I mean."

He knew what the answer should have been: the same answer he'd given every time Craig asked lately. But he didn't want to. He missed just being able to exist near him normally, without having to worry about so much constantly. 

Kyle stood up, stretching his arms overhead. "Yeah. I'd like that. I'm just super fucking behind, so once I get caught up, I'm game."

Craig smiled at him, softly. "Dude, if you need help..." 

Kyle groaned. "It's Brit Lit." Although he knew full well that Craig excelled academically, due to the many classes, labs, and seminars they'd shared, even from partnering with him for their sophomore research project, he was also well aware that anything that required creative thinking like literature classes wasn't Craig's strong suit. 

"Oh, Jesus, gross." Craig pulled a face. "If you need help with anything _else_ I'll be right here." 

"Appreciate it." Kyle flushed as he tossed a grin over his shoulder after starting down the hallway. "I don't know how you get everything done so quickly _,_ dude." 

"What do you mean? You're not exactly a procrastinator yourself."

He sighed and shook his head. "Right now, I'm not. I don't think I've even managed to finish one of the stupid board posts in a week in a half. Not for my lack of trying!" 

Craig looked sympathetic, but didn't offer advice. There was nothing to advise on, as it was. He knew what Kyle's work ethic was, and Kyle knew his own inability to get anything done was new and specific to a certain thing. "That sucks." 

"Yeah. At this rate, I'll be lucky to finish this semester with a C." Which sucked. He'd never gotten a C as a final grade in his life.

"C's get degrees," Craig joked, but there was a considerate tone to it, and a warmhearted look on his handsome face. 

_God,_ was he ever handsome. Quarantine meant Craig hadn't cared much about shaving, and the stubble on his chin and jaw, the fact that he had somewhat of a mustache did him a lot of favors. 

Kyle smiled back, with a roll of his eyes. "C's don't get you into prestigious graduate programs and help you become a psychology professor." 

"Hm." Craig studied him thoughtfully, opened his mouth, but shut it again before he could say whatever he was thinking. "Well. You know where to find me if you get stuck on anything."

"Yeah. Thanks, Craig." Kyle offered him one last smile before finally venturing off to his room. Settling at his desk, he put his headphones on, played some lo-fi hip hop, and did his best to catch up on assignments. 

Concentrating was still as difficult as it had been, but without the burden of keeping a secret from Craig on his shoulders, he felt more productive. He felt satisfaction in being able to check off each completed assignment, even if some of what he turned in was complete bullshit. 

The sun was low in the sky when he finally emerged from his room. Craig wasn't in the living room at that point, which was fine. Kyle made himself comfortable by sprawling on the couch, and finally starting to read the book Craig gifted him.

He kept his phone on his chest, and it buzzed with the usual notifications—comments on his Facebook posts, the Discord chat he had with Stan, Kyle, Kenny, and Butters, and his family's text group chat. He glanced at them as they popped up on his screen, reacted with a few emojis here and there in the group chat, but otherwise kept his attention on his book, learning about the early life of Terrance and Philip in snowy, scenic Canada. 

His phone vibrated again. It was Craig. 

_hey i'm at that pizza place down the street. they do curbside. do you want anything to drink like beer or anything or soda that we dont have at home i can stop at the store_ _hope your homework is going okay. be home soon._ ❤️

That was new. Craig had never sent him a heart before.

 _Totally lame but I could kill for a cider right now. I finished lit homework through today, save for the final paper so I'm done for the day._

His cheeks were burning. Which was stupid. Everything about this was a normal conversation, except for the emoji. What was he supposed to make of it? He second guessed everything, but decided it was definitely more awkward to leave a heart emoji unacknowledged, right? 

So he added: _See you soon_ 💚

 _Cider it is_ :) 

His face burned so hard he felt as if smoke would surely start billowing out of his ears like he was some sort of cartoon character. He felt giddy and nervous and ashamed all at once.

The only distraction that helped was diving more into the book. It was funny and witty, and reminded him of the childhood celebrity crush he'd had on Terrance. That was safer than thinking about how a simple text conversation was making him feel so flustered. 

It wasn't too long later that Craig returned with a pizza box balanced in one hand, and a case of Redd's in the other. Both were set down on the coffee table, and Kyle suddenly remembered how hungry he was. For food.

And, to be fair, for... other things as well, being that Craig was wearing this tight-fitting black tank top underneath an open flannel, and those same joggers from earlier. The tank top stretched across his broad chest nicely, clinging to him so that Kyle could make out the hard peaks of his nipples. It was a challenge to tear his eyes away from that, and even more so for him to stop staring at Craig's ass when he crossed to the kitchen to grab plates. 

But, at least he could use the fact that the pizza smelled delicious as an excuse to why he was salivating.

Maybe Craig noticed, because as Kyle returned with plates and a bottle opener, he was watching Kyle in a way that made him squirm. "Smells good doesn't it." 

And to be fair, it _did._ Any pizza was good pizza, but pizza coming from a locally owned pizzeria with an imported brick oven? Impossible to beat. "Fuck, yeah, dude," Kyle responded, trying to act like everything was perfectly normal even though it wasn't.

They ate in relative silence, save for the movie Craig picked out, to which Kyle wasn't paying much attention. The only things he was cognizant of were devouring his food, washing it down with plenty of hard cider, and the fact that he and Craig were both half on the middle cushion of the sofa. All it would take for their thighs to touch would be for one of them to spread their legs just a bit more. Or, were their shoulders to touch, it would simply take one of them leaning over, just slightly.

After a certain point, it was all he could think about. He wasn't even sure how far into the movie they were, but when it was clear that they were both done eating, Kyle got up to put away the leftovers and wash the dishes. 

He really, truly wasn't invested in the movie, so he didn't ask Craig to pause it, even when he went back to his room to grab a blanket before settling back down on the couch.

"That looks comfortable," Craig observed, giving Kyle a warm, cute smile.

"It is." It was soft and plush, and deep lovely navy color on one side, and a lighter blue on the other. Admittedly, it was one he bought for when he was inevitably nesting, but it served its purposes now too. Tucking it up to his shoulders, he held a corner out toward Craig. "Wanna feel?"

"Kyle, are you inviting me under your blanket?" Craig quirked a brow at him. "Don't mind if I do."

That hadn't exactly been his intention, but now that Craig made it an option, Kyle admittedly wanted that. "You might have to scoot closer. It's not that big." 

It was a king size.

"Oh," Craig responded, in a soft tone, and Kyle felt him shift closer. His side pressed against Kyle's, and he felt warm and inviting as they shared the blanket.

“Feels good,” Craig said, his voice a soft, low rumble that was just as comforting as the blanket around them. Yet, it had a crooning quality to it that made Kyle’s spine tingle.

"It was expensive, but this proves it was worth it." Kyle sighed contentedly. He thought nothing of it when he shifted, leaning into Craig's side. Craig shifted in turn, tucking his arm around Kyle's shoulders.

It took every ounce of restraint Kyle possessed to remain still. Perhaps too much, as he was left painfully aware that he was overcompensating by keeping his posture painstakingly, ramrod straight, like when his mom made him take piano lessons as a child and his teacher would prod him in the back in order to keep him sitting up properly. He was aware of every motion he made, however small. It felt almost as if the simple act of blinking, of _breathing_ would make him do something he wasn’t supposed to do.

"You're tense," Craig observed, retracting his arm. For a panicked moment, Kyle was worried that Craig was going to move away again. Instead, however, Craig rested his hand on Kyle's shoulder, slowly massaging out one of the knots he could feel under his fingers. 

"I'm always tense." But the pain of Craig working that knot out felt _good._

And, _God,_ Craig smelled amazing. It was just like he learned in all his classes—although alpha’s scents were all individual, they were forever hard to pin down. But, a compatible alpha’s scent would translate itself to the omega’s favorite smells. Nostalgic smells. Smells that reminded you of something wonderful. And Craig smelled like himself, of course, but there was more—he smelled of a campfire mixed with leather, fresh linens, and clear mountain air. 

But underneath it was something so primal, so animalistic and raw and irresistible that Kyle could no longer keep himself frozen in one place.

Very quickly, he got to the point where he couldn't think about his actions before they happened. Kyle twisted on the couch so he could better face Craig. There wasn't a moment of hesitation; as soon as he'd done that, he pressed his face against Craig's collarbone, breathing him in.

“Oh, wow,” Craig whispered reverently under his breath, shuddering. A contented hum caught in Craig’s chest; then, he rubbed his neck against Kyle’s hair, effectively _marking_ him.

"You smell nice." Kyle felt like he was in some kind of heedy daze. He couldn't explain it, but inexplicably, his senses were filled and it felt like this was consuming him entirely. 

And suddenly, he felt Craig's arms around him, encircling him in a warm embrace. "You do too."

“You smell... incredible,” Kyle repeated in a mumble. He all but melted into Craig’s arms, and took this closeness as an opportunity to press his face into his neck, right near the scent gland behind his ear.

It was wonderful. It was the best feeling Kyle had experienced ever, or at least in recent times. Craig was intoxicating, and his hands were roaming over Kyle's back. 

"You're amazing," Craig said, in a tone so low that it felt like they were trading secrets while he buried his face in Kyle's hair. Whatever this was, it was perfect, which was why when Craig leaned away from him with a frown, it was jarring. "Oh. Finals are coming up."

“What!?” Kyle shook his head. He _knew_ that, of course, but the shock of hearing it from Craig at a time like _this..._

Plus, it’d maybe, sort of, _kind of_ slipped his mind in the last few days, what with his life being over, and all that.

Craig wasn't looking at him. Or, he was, but he was very much _not focused_ as he was apparently accessing a mental calendar. And then he focused back on Kyle and nodded. "Yeah. Dead week is the week after next." 

He noticed the look of panic spread across Kyle's face, and leaned closer. But he seemed to think better of it, and rested against the back of the couch. "You'll be fine. You know all the info." Craig's fingers found Kyle's, faintly touching. "And you know I'll help you with whatever."

Just like moments ago, Kyle’s hand also seemed to move automatically, his fingers twining around Craig’s. For a split second, Craig tensed at his touch, but then, their palms pressed together, and he gave Kyle’s hand a squeeze. “Just. I know it’s going to be hard. Because, um, if you’ve got how many pills left...” 

Kyle added it up in his head, just in case he somehow miscounted when they discussed it earlier. “Nine left. It’s Thursday. So I’ll be okay til next Saturday.” It was a relief, for sure—it gave him more than enough time to finish the papers he needed to finish, to do what he could with studying for his actual tests. “Online they said, um, I’m supposed to, you know.” He cleared his throat. “Nest. So that’ll be during finals.”

Craig's expression was impassive as he nodded. He stroked his thumb over the top of his hand. "I'm not saying it'll be easy, but you'll get it done. There might be a larger window than normal to complete them, since it's online." 

Kyle shook his head. He had no idea, but the sense of foreboding was quickly taking over everything. "I'm going to bomb this whole semester, dude."

Craig inhaled sharply through his nose, then cautiously scooted closer to Kyle, their thighs touching. Once again the blanket was wrapped around both their shoulders. “You’re not.”

"You don't know that." 

Craig slid his arm back around Kyle. Their foreheads touched. Kyle was most certainly going to just keel over. "You don't know that you're going to fail, either. In any case, I won't let you."

Kyle attempted to respond, but words failed him. An open mouth was dangerous—he could say something, _do_ something that would get both of them in a world of trouble. But what he could do, and what he did do, was brush his head against Craig’s neck, lightly at first.

Craig held him fast and tight, pulling him closer. Kyle wasn't entirely cognizant of where his various limbs wound up. The only thing on his mind was that Craig's scent overtook him again, and at least for now, that alone was at least a little distracting from his school worries. Even if the pheromonal awareness was just as troubling for him.

He wanted Craig’s scent all over him, always. He wanted to keep himself there forever, to never let Craig go, for Craig to always keep him close just as they were then, or even closer yet. 

He wanted Craig to completely and utterly overtake him. 

He found himself shuddering, a soft near-moan escaping his lips. He knew he was hard, he knew he was _wet,_ but he couldn’t bring himself to stop rubbing his neck against Craig’s shoulders, his wrists against Craig’s back, likewise marking Craig with his own scent. He wondered if Craig was as drunk on Kyle’s pheromones as Kyle was on Craig’s.

His question was answered when Craig pulled him more firmly against him. He felt almost certain that the only space between their bodies were the small amounts their clothes took up. He could feel the vibrations in Craig's chest as he hummed, burying his face into Kyle's hair and into the side of his neck. 

That was when he realized that he could _also_ feel just how hard Craig was. That alone had Kyle _aching._ He ran his hands upward, eventually settling on the back of Craig's neck as he searched his face, gaze eventually settling on Craig's lips.

Craig laughed. It was a nervous, shaky sound, but his eyes glinted with something wicked. “This is gonna be... difficult,” he breathed, voice sounding raw and honest. 

Kyle groaned, allowing his head to flop back into Craig’s shoulder. “I know.” 

“Do we need to get you Plan B in case something happens during your heat?” The frankness with which Craig said it made Kyle throb.

"No. I'm, uh. On birth control." 

Craig licked his lips as he looked up at Kyle. "Right now you are?" 

He nodded. He was clearly, and painfully aware of Craig's erection pressed against his hip. "It's a separate medication and there's not a shortage."

“Oh.” Craig’s voice was low and breathy. He leaned into Kyle’s neck once more, this time blatantly sniffing at him.

Something about it sent electricity down his spine, and he automatically pressed more firmly against Craig. "Yeah," Kyle responded, more for the sake of responding, as he brushed his fingers through Craig's hair.

Craig leaned in. 

Kyle leaned in. He could smell the cider on Craig’s breath, mingling with that intoxicating alpha scent.

Craig's eyes fluttered to a close. Their lips were mere millimeters apart when common sense hit him—or it was sheer panic. Either way, it had Kyle immediately scrambling to his feet and moved to the nearby armchair, tucking his legs against his chest. 

He could feel Craig's on him, and when he finally made eye contact, Kyle saw his expression was a mix of confusion with something he couldn't quite place. "We should probably just sit in separate seats. I don't... I don't want to do anything that could jeopardize our friendship, dude. That's too important."

“Oh.” Craig’s mouth set itself into a line, and he swallowed. He shook his head, and there was an unmistakable flicker of disappointment in his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s. That’s fine, man. It’s important to me, too.”

"Okay, good. I'm glad." Kyle tried not to think too hard about Craig's expression, or how it made him feel _guilty,_ which was stupid. He had no reason to feel guilty. Besides, it didn't matter if they'd both wanted to kiss. It really didn't, because they were both going to end up going a little nuts before this was all over with Kyle running low on his suppressants. It felt like he was getting to the point where he wasn't sure if he could trust himself. And if that were the case, could he trust Craig? 

He turned his attention to the TV, but it felt like the atmosphere in the room didn't recover even after a short while. So he opened his phone to send Stan a DM on Discord. 

_Dude. We almost kissed and sanity hit me and I thought better of it, because the last thing we need is to do something we'd both regret that could ruin our friendship and lives. And Craig agreed but now he's acting all weird._ He stopped typing when he noticed Craig get up and head down the hall to his room. _And now he's just ditching me in the living room and we were watching a movie._

He stared at the screen until it went black, and let the movie play until its end while he waited for a reply that never came, not even after he hit play on whatever Netflix’s next suggested program was, not even halfway through that, either. 

Kyle scrolled through r/AskOmegas as the film played in the background. But there was no advice there about his particular situation, just the usual circlejerk of alpha bashing. He knew what would happen if he posted there himself—they’d tell him to find somewhere else to go. And forget posting anywhere else without getting shamed for just _existing_ as an omega.

He didn't know what to do, and the more he thought about it, the more the cider and greasy pizza sat horribly on his stomach. It was just as well that he turned in for the night. The internet wasn't going to help him. Apparently his best friend wasn't going to help him. And he seemed incapable of doing what he thought was the right thing without somehow making the situation worse. 

Turning the TV off, he brushed his teeth and got ready for bed. At the last minute, he remembered his blanket in the living room and retrieved that. Even after the short while he'd used it, Kyle could smell Craig on it. Or maybe it was just _him_ as a whole. 

As he laid down in his bed, he tried not to think about it, or him, or anything. Even though it really was all Kyle could think about.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand here's part two. Thank you everyone who has left comments and kudos, we're thrilled you've enjoyed this ♥

_kyle wtf_

Stan’s message, short and to the point, seemed to admonish Kyle from his bright home screen when he woke up and reached for his phone, bleary eyed and not at all rested. The terrible quality of his sleep stood as testament to the fact that he’d forced it upon himself before he was even close to tired, falling asleep as a defense mechanism to keep himself from yet another fit of tears.

He didn't bother to respond. Not yet. Not when it was plenty obvious to him what Stan thought about the whole thing. His head hurt too much, his mouth felt so dry that it felt like his throat was stuffed with cotton. 

The apartment was quiet, and lest he do anything to change that, he very quietly got himself some water, made his coffee, and brought a grocery bag full of snack food from the pantry before disappearing back to his room. 

It wasn't avoidance if he also had a game day scheduled with his friends.

First, homework. For the first time in weeks, Kyle was able to concentrate fully on making a study guide for one of his upcoming exams, just out of need for pure distraction.

Maybe his life needed to be a disastrous mess more often. Perhaps that would help him turn this entire semester around. But wasn't it too late for that, regardless of how hard he'd tried before everything got messed up? He knew he couldn't _actually_ take Craig up on his offer to help him study. And for what was probably the hundredth time, he felt like the better thing to have done, long-term, would've been to just go home. 

As much as that situation would've made him want to die, he wouldn't be sitting at his desk right now, fighting to ignore the feeling that he really had ruined one of the most important friendships in his life.

At the very least, his hunger and thirst had abated slightly over the past week or so as his body evened out and adjusted to his new dosage, so the snacks and bottles of water he’d taken to his room were enough to sate him until his video call started. 

It was unusual for them to hold their calls on a Friday, but Kenny had been scheduled to work the night before. The only reason it threw Kyle off was because their Thursday night video call reminded him of what day of the week it was, being that most of his classes had turned into self-study free-for-alls this late in the semester. And, really, he couldn’t blame his professors for that. 

Everyone was stressed, and everything sucked.

But maybe, just maybe, he'd somehow luck out and this call would be the actually fun distraction that he needed. But almost as soon as he joined the video call, he found Stan and Kenny already there. There wasn't enough time to figure out what they were talking about, because immediately Stan's attention was on him. 

"Kyle, dude, _what the fuck_ was that bullshit last night?"

Kenny chimed in before Kyle could even open his mouth. "What, did he get laid? Kyle, _did you get laid?_ "

Kyle sputtered. “What!? No, I didn’t get fucking laid dude, I....I—“ 

Kenny interrupted him with a fit of coughs. It was a sharp, dry hack, like his lungs were filled with burning paper. He banged on his chest. “Damn. Anyway, Kyle. My _dude,_ you—”

“Kenny, you sound fucking terrible.”

Kenny shook his head, still somewhat coughing as he tried to drink some water. "I'm fine. Ugh. Stannie, give me the tea since Kyle's going to do me dirty." 

Stan looked as concerned about Kenny's health as Kyle was, but it apparently didn't stop him from spilling. "Dude, he's been playing some will-they, won't-they with Craig when he's out of his meds." 

Kenny looked aghast. "Dude." 

"I _have_ some left. They're just half doses and a little over a week left."

Kenny choked on his water, which led to another coughing fit. He looked pale, drawn, like he hadn’t gotten rest. “Kyle,” he managed between coughs, “What the fuck are you gonna do when you _do_ run out?” 

“Seriously, Kenny, did you go to work coughing like that? You shouldn’t do that, dude.”

“Kyle. He _said_ he’s fine.” Stan looked worried for a split second, but he forced a smile. 

“No? Started feeling crappy this morning and _don’t_ change the subject, dickface.”

"Your health is more important than anything I have going on," Kyle insisted. "You should see a doctor." 

"Yeah, Ken, you could have the Rona. But _also,_ Kyle, I'm just dying to know what ingenious plan you have." There was a sarcastic edge to Stan's tone, but it was one Kyle understood as him also sincerely wanting to know. 

He sighed. "We're just going to stay in our separate rooms and only use communal spaces one at a time."

“That’ll work,” Stan scoffed. 

“Stan, I swear to god—“ 

“Kyle. Give me his discord.” Kenny laughed. 

“No!” 

“Then give it to _me,”_ Stan said insistently. 

“Stan, what the hell! No!”

"Someone has to talk to the poor guy, since you're kinda _continuing_ to be a dick.”

Kyle shook his head in disbelief. "Wow. I'm the one who's dealing with a heat, Stan."

“Why don’t you just go somewhere?” Kenny asked. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Kyle's voice rose an octave. “Do you have any fucking idea how many times I’ve heard that from those fucking doctors? Dude, like I told them, where the hell am I—“ 

There was a noise that indicated Eric had joined the chat. Kyle knew better than to continue on that train of thought while he was around. He shut his mouth, quickly, and as soon as Eric flickered into view— 

“ _Butters?”_

Butters waved, smiling sheepishly. "Hi, fellas." 

Kyle was struck silent by what he was seeing, but Stan? Stan wasn't, and he fortunately understood that any conversation about Kyle's _condition_ was to never happen around Eric as much as possible. 

"Butters, what the fuck are you doing at Cartman's house?" 

Butters looked off-screen for a moment. "Well, you see, me and Eric were talking outside the other day. Masks and six feet apart, of course. I went to go back inside and the door was locked and my house keys were inside. So I knock, and my Dad starts yelling about how I'm grounded from the house for trying to kill Grandma." He paused, frowning. "But she's not staying with us right now."

Eric’s rotund face shoved itself into view, taking up the side of the screen while he, presumably, pushed Butters out of the way. He was red in the face and clutching a Mike’s Hard Lemonade in his massive hand. Eric had filled out considerably over the years—still fat, but in the way a college football team’s defensive lineman was fat. Solid muscle with a layer of fluff over it, broad shoulders, and tall as hell. No wonder that asshole flaunted his alpha status all the time and rubbed it in everyone’s faces. 

“You _guys!”_ He was drunk, clearly. Eric’s voice held that whiny quality it always had when they were kids, and he was trying to get what he wanted. “Butters is here! Isn’t this _great?”_

"Probably not for Butters," Kyle muttered. He couldn't _help it._ Something about seeing Eric's stupid face made him seethe. 

"Ay! Don't fucking start. It's too goddamn early for that," Eric retorted, though it was apparently not too early for him to throw back that bottle and finish it off in a few gulps. 

"Jeez, I'd really hate for you guys to fight. Really, it's been swell being over here at Eric's. We've been getting along mighty great. Except for the pizza incident." 

"Butters, _seriouslah_ , shut up about the pizza incident." 

"Butters, tell us about the pizza incident," Kenny chimed in, though by the end of the sentence he was coughing again. Just like Stan had, and just like Kyle had, Butters looked concerned. Eric didn't seem to notice. 

"We ordered a pizza for dinner last night," Butters began, using the tone he used for all of his stories. "We got a large, and we expected it to be cut in eight pieces 'cause that's what it says on the website. But it was cut into six pieces, and Eric got really sore about it, 'cause he thought that meant there was less pizza. I told him it was the same amount of pizza, just a different number of slices, and it could still be split evenly. But he said it was less pizza because it was three slices a piece and not four."

Kyle cackled, Kenny ended up in a coughing fit, and Cartman started on a tirade, swearing and yelling at Butters, who looked like he was trying not to collapse into laughter himself.

This was normal. 

Well, _normal_ would've been all of them in the same room, but this was close enough. It almost surprised Kyle just how much the normal banter and bullshit put him at ease.

"Are we going to do this or what? I've been working on this campaign nonstop."

Stan glared at his webcam, and somehow Kyle had a feeling it was at _him._ “Oh. Yeah, dude, let’s get it going.” 

“Hold on a second, fellas, the timer just went off for our mozzarella sticks.”

Kyle leaned back in his chair, quirking his brow as he saw Butters leave the room. "Cartman, are you having Butters do everything for you again?" 

"I'm just showing him hospitality, _Kahl._ " 

"That's not how that works, Shit-for-Brains."

“He’s living in my home. Sharing my food, my clothes, my...” Eric sighed heavily, crossing his muscular arms behind his head. “My bathroom, even. And a bathroom is a man’s sanctuary.” 

“You two take baths together?” Kenny laughed.

"What's it to you, _Kinnie,_ " Eric quibbed. "Who wouldn't want to shower with a prime alpha specimen like me? _Kahl_ don't you dare open your mouth. Everyone knows Jews have no tastes." 

Kyle groaned. "I hope if one of us gets the Rona and dies, it's you." 

"Fuck you." 

"Not a chance." 

Eric grumbled and finally seemed to notice he was out of booze. "Don't get started yet, Stan. Mikes are calling for me." And with that, he left the room.

Just as soon as everyone was beginning to gossip about Eric while he was offscreen, Butters appeared, a platter of mozzarella sticks, surrounding a bowl of marinara sauce, in hand. He settled daintily upon the dining room chair set up next to Cartman’s desk chair, and chewed on a cheese stick carefully. “Aw, jeez. It’s so hot.” 

“Butters, how can you stand it?” Stan grinned. “Being cooped up with Cartman and not being able to leave.” 

Butters shrugged. “Eh. Beats bein’ at home with my dad. Eric’s got plenty of booze and snacks.”

"That's such a low bar, dude," Kyle commented. Butters's brows knitted. 

"How so? You're choosing to stay where you are instead of coming home." 

"Whoa. No, that's completely a different situation. _I_ already lived here before this shit happened and Craig—" What did Craig even think of him, after last night? They'd really gone from Craig admitting that he was attracted to him to Kyle...totally flipping out. "—Craig is nice to be around." 

"Eric is nice to be around," Butters insisted earnestly. "I feel for him. Poor alphas. Did you know he has to use this ointment, or oil thing? Every day. Alpha treatment, or something. What a hard life."

“Wait, what.” Stan’s brows shot up. “I’ve never heard of that.” 

“I have,” Kenny quipped hoarsely, grinning from ear to ear. “You know those ads on AlphaHub?”

"That snake oil to make betas smell like alphas?" Kyle hated that he outed himself as being familiar with certain porn websites, but it wasn't like his friends _didn't know,_ either

"'Omegas will _leak for you,'_ " Kenny quoted one of the ads that Kyle knew he'd seen too. "Has our old pal made you leaky, Kyle?"

“Sick, dude!” 

“Right, you’re only leaky for your roommate.” 

“Kenny, I swear to god—“ 

“Wait.” Stan’s brow furrowed. “Then Eric isn’t even an alpha?”

The realization hit the three of them—Stan, Kenny, Kyle—all at once and they burst into laughter. Of course that was when Eric returned with a bottle in each hand. 

"Ay, what's going on?" 

"The jig's up, Beta-Boy," Kyle said, trying and absolutely failing to keep a straight face.

Eric’s face fell for but a second, then it quickly twisted itself into a look of abject smugness. “Whatever, ‘meg. Betas are the majority.”

"And yet, somehow you were still insecure enough to fake it," Kyle retorted. 

"Like you didn't do the same thing, Jewboy." 

"Betas aren't historically _marginalized,_ Fatass!" 

"Ugh, there he goes again with his social justice crap."

“It’s not ‘social justice crap’ if it’s true,” Stan intoned, sounding vaguely resigned. “Can we not in front of a history major, because I _will_ go off right now.” 

_"Can we not in front of a history maaaaajor?”_ Eric raised his voice into a simper and batted his eyelashes in a very poor imitation of Stan. 

Stan rolled his eyes. “Guys, why don’t we just drop it and play the game?” 

“And screw _you,_ Butters, for opening your faggy little mouth!” Eric jabbed Butters in the chest. “If you hadn’t...” His lower lip quavered, and his voice hitched. “Screw you.”

Butters looked perplexed. "What did I do?" 

Which was enough to nearly start everything back up again, but Kenny's loud coughing made discussion impossible. When he finally calmed back down, he waved his hand. "Let's just start the game, please."

“My condition of win is I have to kill Butters.” Eric shoved a mozzarella stick in his mouth. 

“Cartman...” Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. “That isn’t a thing in this game.” 

“Fine, Stan, then I’m the betrayer.” 

“There’s no betrayer in Zombicide, fatass!” 

This triggered another coughing fit from Kenny, who looked as if he was feverish and sweaty.

"I'm _fine,_ " Kenny insisted before anyone could say anything. 

Kyle couldn't help but feel increasingly concerned about how bad off Kenny seemed. "Dude, seriously, you should call urgent care." To which Kenny waved his hand dismissively. 

"For fuck's sake, Kyle, Kinnie says he's fine, stop being a wet blanket. _Stan,_ give me something cool."

In the end, Stan broke out his whisky about midway through, while Butters and Eric got increasingly drunk over the course of the game, and Eric ended up fucking them over. As the last player, he kicked down a door, which caused zombies to swarm them, and everybody to die. 

It was just like a normal Thursday night, back when they could still see each other in person. And despite the (predictable) outcome of their game, Kyle was able to smile, and forget about his situation for a moment. 

“Well. That was great.” Stan’s voice was slightly sarcastic, but there was a grin on his face. “Any ideas for what to play next time?” 

“I got a copy of Love Letters from the flea market,” Kenny leered. 

“Pass,” Kyle laughed, “Not in the mood for looking at tits.” 

“I mean, I don’t mind that but. You know you can’t play that over a call, dude.”

"Just because _Kahl_ doesn't want to look at _bewbs_." 

Stan rolled his eyes. "That's not the point, dude." 

"What about Monopoly?" Butters looked a little excited as he made that suggestion.

"You can't play Monopoly with a Jew, Butters."   
  
“Monopoly? You guys don’t wanna play a real game?” Stan scoffed.   
  
“Shut up, hippie!”

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Don't fucking test me, Fatass. I _will_ break the stay at home order to kick your ass."

“Aw, jeez, Kyle, you don’t wanna go doin’ that.” Butters’ shoulders slumped. “Gosh darn it, I like Monopoly,” he mumbled.

"Let's play Monopoly anyway," Kenny spoke up, perhaps taking sympathy on Butters, perhaps knowing that if he didn't throw his hat in now, Kyle was going to suggest something he didn't want to play. "I'll be the only time I stand a chance of making it rich. Besides, it’s easy to play online."

They signed off after more chitchat about various board games, during which Cartman lobbied heavily that they play a game where you’re tasked with killing Hitler—Kyle had an inkling how that would go, and hoped that Eric wouldn’t be able to persuade Stan to select that game next week via private message.

Kyle decided not to dwell on that too much. If somehow the worst case scenario happened, he'd just have to give Stan the what-for. In the meantime, though, he became suddenly aware that he was hungry. 

His snacks were long gone, as was his coffee, and there was only one thing he could do about it. He ventured to the kitchen to cook himself something to eat. Noodles, nice and easy, with some vegetables thrown in for good measure. 

He piled all that he wanted into a bowl, and seeing that there was still plenty left over, he put the rest in a Tupperware container and left it in the fridge. Presumably someone would eat it, be it him or Craig.

He knew when he heard Craig’s door open that he should have eaten in his room. But snacking was one thing. Having hot food in his room was a new level of avoidance. They’d always eaten at the small dining room table that Craig scored second hand, so it was as much a force of habit as it was a deliberate choice. But it was too late then. Getting up would mean that Craig would _know_ he was trying to stay out of his way. 

Craig sported mussed-up hair, and dark circles under his eyes. He opened the fridge, and poured himself a glass of milk, chugging it before even acknowledging Kyle, and wiping his mouth with his forearm when he finished. “Jesus. I’m so sick of looking at stats problems,” he offered as a greeting.

"Mm," Kyle said in response, as of course in that exact moment there was a whole forkful of food in his mouth. It wasn't until after he finished chewing and swallowing his food down that he responded. "Yeah, that's kinda mind-numbing." 

"Really just hard to concentrate when there's screaming all day. Were you fighting your computer?"

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry, dude.” Kyle shot Craig a sympathetic, embarrassed look. “I was playing Zombicide with Stan and them. We, um. It’s a board game. We had a weekly board game thing before this happened, and we’re trying to keep it going on Discord and, well...” He trailed off. “I didn’t think about finals since it’s Friday and all.” 

Craig’s eyes seemed to soften. “Hey. It’s alright. It’s nice to hang out with friends.”

"Yeah. It really is." Which was weird to say. Because Craig was his friend too, but the boys were his friends since childhood and it was just different. Did Craig socialize with his friends when he was in his room, or did he just study and do little else? Why did he not know the answer to that?

“So, yeah. I’m gonna take a break and watch a movie if you’re interested.” Craig stared at the floor, cheeks turning red. “We can sit on different chairs again. Can’t promise I won’t pass out midway through. I’m fucking tired, man.” 

Kyle laughed nervously. “Alright.”

Not long later, he took the recliner while Craig made himself comfortable on the couch. The boundaries were set in place, though they were more rigid than they'd ever been before this. Kyle opted not to dwell on that, and instead focused on the movie. Halfway through the movie, he glanced over to find that Craig had indeed nodded off, and by the end of it, Kyle had followed suit.

* * *

Five pills left, and his mother called him. He’d stared at his phone as it rang, then let it go to voicemail. 

_Bubbeleh, it’s your mother! I haven’t heard from you in_ ages, _Kyle—I’m worried sick! I’ve been watching the news; have you been able to get your medication? Your father is doing well, and your brother has some great news about his college applications. Call me, Kyle._

* * *

Four pills left, and Stan called him. Unlike his mother, it was out of character for Stan to call instead of text. Kyle picked it up right away. 

“Oh my god, coronavirus killed Kenny,” he said, mournfully, after Kyle answered. Kyle gasped. 

“You bastards!” 

* * *

Three pills left, and he, Cartman, Stan, Butters, and Kenny did, indeed, play Monopoly over their tabletop simulator and Discord. Kenny won. 

* * *

"I got my lit paper turned in finally," Kyle told him, relief rushing through him. It had been his least favorite course all semester, and to have the paper that accounted for thirty percent of his grade out of the way was an accomplishment. 

"Dude, that's awesome." Craig made a move, then stopped. Separate seating turned into no contact at all, which was more extreme than it had ever been before. But Kyle said nothing about it, and neither had Craig. 

Craig settled on the couch after he passed Kyle, sitting ankle over knee, doing whatever he did on his phone. From the other side of the room, where the edge of the hallway met the living room, Kyle couldn't see what app it was. "Your friend DMed me on Insta, by the way."

“What.” Kyle’s stomach dropped. “What friend?” He knew the answer, of course, but just needed confirmation. 

“Oh, Stan. Remember, we met when he came to visit for homecoming weekend last year.” 

“I do,” Kyle replied, clipped.

Craig didn't say anything else about it, and that alone made Kyle squirm in the worst way. What was the point in bringing it up, then? Naturally, he couldn't let it just sit like that. "I didn't realize you guys talked. You said you hated him." 

"Yeah, I changed my mind about that." Craig was typing something. Was he _still_ talking to Stan? About what, him? 

"What were you talking about?" 

"You know. Alpha stuff."

“Alpha stuff.” Kyle raised a brow. 

“Yeah, um, he gave me some advice.” Craig flushed.

He nodded slowly as he attempted to milk more information from him. "Alpha advice about...?" 

Craig was truly, intentionally training his gaze on his phone rather than looking up. "Just that. Alpha advice." 

Kyle stared at him for a moment, and when it was clear that he wasn't going to get a response beyond that, he returned to his room and immediately opened his conversation with Stan. 

_What the FUCK did you do?_

_???_

_Don’t ??? me. What did you do with CRAIG_

_Followed him on insta._

Kyle let out a strangled, frustrated growl. _OBVIOUSLY. You know what I mean!!!!!!!_

 _i don't_

_Why are you talking to my roommate, Stan._

_talking to a friend of a friend isn't a crime, Kyle. i don't know what you're so upset about._

_You're talking about me, aren't you? Why can't you just stay out of this?_

_Kyle_ _  
_ _Ily_ _  
_ _You know this_ _  
_ _But you’re not the only one having trouble here and I didn’t know if he had any other alphas to talk to_ _  
_ _And he doesn’t he has a crappy relationship w his dad which hello same so_ _  
_ _We talked_

Kyle stared at the text for a long moment. He was _fuming,_ and he couldn't articulate why apart from feeling like his own privacy was invaded. 

_You swear it had absolutely NOTHING to do with me?_

_The only thing that had to do with you is he’s into you.  
Like he likes you a lot and said something about he liked you when he thought you were a beta.  
I don’t want to disrespect Craig’s trust tho so   
_ _You didn’t hear it from me_

Kyle felt like his heart stopped. He knew Craig found him attractive, but this... Had it been a poor decision to force down that crush he’d had on Craig freshman year?

He sat down on the edge of the bed and reread the message over and over. An awful feeling came over him. Perhaps it was guilt, but it felt more like a malaise that he could only cure by attempting to right the situation. 

But he felt frozen to the spot, unable to move from the bed, much less walk back down the hall to where Craig was probably still sitting on the couch. 

_Stan I swear if you're fucking with me right now._

_I PROMISE Kyle. I’m not  
_ _He’s never been with an omega before, btw._

That was new, surprising information that made his cheeks burn. 

_Oh. Is that... typical?_

_lol kyle not really_

He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling hot. He rolled up the sleeves of his flannel, and pulled at the collar of the t-shirt underneath. There was no way Craig was a virgin, not in the general sense—he’d had casual boyfriends, and he’d gone home with guys every once in a blue moon, back when they could still party.

 _I mean. I haven't been with an alpha._

_you know it's different for you_

It was blunt, but it was true. Perhaps there were omegas who hadn't been so cautious, but he wasn't among them. It was more than just the risk; there was also the stigma that just never made it worth it. There just wasn't any other way to dice it: an alpha could do what they wanted with who they wanted, but an omega...

 _I know_

_Do you want my honest opinion?_

Kyle’s hands shook as he tapped out, _sure dude_

_I’m not saying you HAVE to do anything. It’s your choice. But if you’re gonna mate with anyone  
_ _Or whatever lol  
_ _He’s a really good guy and since you have to be stuck there with someone you’re lucky you’re stuck there with him  
_ _You know?_

He inhaled sharply.

_I know. He's great and I'm lucky in that regard. It's just... IDK. Stan, you don't get it. He's as best a friend to me as you are, and anything happening ruins that. Anything happening ruins my chances at everything._

_I wouldn’t be so sure dude  
_ _Just think about it  
_ _No pressure of course.  
_ _And he’s not putting me up to anything_

 _Okay. Thanks._

He didn't know what else to say, or what to do. He could think himself in circles and still not come to a conclusion when the risks were what they were, so instead he laid down, bundling up in his blankets.

Even if the actual experience ended up to be short-lived, even if he got the call hours into his heat that his medication was available and it showed up on his doorstep a day later, Kyle still knew that whatever awaited him in the coming weeks would alter his life forever. 

The only question was, would it be for the positive? 

He rose, and opened his desk drawer. Two pill halves rattled around in the bottle. He took one, swallowing it with a scant swig of water. It wasn't enough; he felt it in his throat on the way down.

There was a certain sort of anxiety that came from knowing something so big, so life-altering was coming in the midst of all this turmoil. It was absolutely terrifying to know how much was on the line, and while he could anticipate a number of different outcomes, he had no idea which sort it would be. 

He felt like he was getting his affairs in order as he sent off the last of his outstanding assignments. Kyle felt like, right then, he ought to have had a dirge or requiem playing in the background. 

Particularly as he took his last pill that night— 

Only to have the following day be surprisingly normal.

He put the finishing touches on a couple study guides, and made friendly small talk about nothing in particular apart from finals, and how Craig missed his mom's pies even though Kyle's proper cooking was much better than hers, and how neither one of them could wait until this pandemic was over so they could go to a movie theatre again, and how they'd load up on candy and popcorn laden with tons of extra butter when they finally got to see a film. And maybe they could go to a bar after and talk about it, because didn't it suck that both of them hadn't been 21 for long at all, and then this shit happened? 

Kyle almost thought of asking him if it could be a proper date. The implication was there, perhaps, that it would be one. 

He'd fallen asleep early, hit with a wave of acute exhaustion right after he and Craig polished off one of those family size bags of pizza rolls between the two of them. And, for the first time in a while, he didn't dwell on what would be. He simply let himself drift off, and dream.

Waking up was a struggle the following morning. At one point, he was awake long enough to know that it was somewhere between the eight o'clock hour. He needed to get up and start his day so he didn't waste away. But he was so _tired_ and his eyes refused to open. 

He drifted back to sleep, only waking long enough to pull more blankets on top of him and snuggle deeply into his pillows. He didn't even hear the knock on his door, much less the creak as it was pushed open.

Instead, a gentle nudge on his shoulder awoke him. His eyes fluttered open to see Craig sitting on his desk chair that he must have wheeled over. 

He was beautiful. 

Kyle felt a sudden lurch in his chest, like tears were going to well up simply from the sight of his friend's kind, blue eyes, and beautiful tan skin dusted with stubble, and shiny black hair. _What the fuck?_ It wasn't like him to just... _feel_ things that intensely. 

"Hey." Craig smiled softly. "I hope it's alright I came in. It's noon."

Kyle nodded, turning onto his back and digging his palms against his face to hide the overwhelming emotion he felt. Being so unused to feeling this emotionally raw, the last thing he wanted was for Craig to see just how bad off he was right there. "Yeah, it's fine. I tried to wake up sooner, but I couldn't." 

He couldn't see Craig like this, but he felt Craig watching him. "It happens. You must be hungry though. Do you want something?"

As if on clockwork, Kyle's stomach growled. "Ha, yeah. I guess I am." The thought of food, _any_ food, but especially stuff that was incredibly bad for him made his mouth water. "I really want cake." He wrinkled his brow. "Is that weird?" 

"No, not, um. Not right now, it's not."

"I mean, I guess you're not wrong. There's a pandemic going on so it doesn't really matter—" He stopped suddenly, peering over at Craig with wide eyes. 

But before Kyle could speak again, Craig cleared his throat. "What kind of cake do you want?" 

"You know those trashy bunt cakes that are drizzled in sugary glaze?" 

"The ones you hate that you say taste worse than Little Debbie's?" 

"Yeah, that's what I want."

Craig nodded. "I'll go to the grocery store for us. We're running low on, well, everything." 

"Be careful," Kyle said, voice cracking. He reached out and grabbed hold of Craig's forearm. His skin was warm and inviting, and he wanted to pull Craig in for an embrace and never let go. "I want the one that tastes like Orange Crush," he added.

The smile that Craig gave him was so soft, so kind, that it took everything not to burst into tears. He was going to break and it was the last thing he wanted. "You can text me if there's anything else you want, alright?"

Kyle nodded. 

"I'll get going. You might feel better after a shower, yeah?"

"Maybe I'll take a bath," Kyle said, overly cognizant of the weird, dreamlike quality to his voice at the thought of a bath. It sounded amazing—warm, comfortable, good-smelling and just what he needed. 

"Good idea."

Craig stood up from the chair and held his hand out. It wasn't until right then that Kyle realized that he really needed the assistance to kickstart the whole process of getting out of bed. He still felt _that_ fatigued. 

"Just don't fall asleep in the tub." 

Kyle nodded, and as Craig headed out, he went to the bathroom to start his bath. He wasn't normally a bath person, and when he was, it was for the pure enjoyment of hot water. And yet, here he was, going through Craig's products on the shared shelf to see if there was something that could be added to a bath.

He put a couple of generous squeezes of Craig's body wash into the running water, and set up some soft music to play from his phone while he watched the bubbles fill up the tub, and steam billow out from it. It was a familiar smell, and although it was nothing compared to Craig's actual _scent,_ it provided just the right amount of comfort in that moment. 

He stepped into the water, groaning in relaxation as soon as he was fully submerged.

He sank further and further down into the tub, taking solace in the hot water while it lasted. One day, perhaps, he'd somehow manage to live somewhere that had a heated bathtub. Maybe even one with jets, and when he felt like this he could milk it for all it was worth. But as it was, the water eventually cooled.

Draining the tub, he took a proper shower to clean up, and after drying off headed back to his room. He opted for sweats and an old t-shirt, and knew he was inevitably going to end back up in his bed. It was the only place he wanted to be right now. 

Before he did that, though, he completely took everything off and remade it, this time adding some of the numerous pillows under an extra top sheet in an effort to make the mattress more plush.

With the remaining new pillows, plus the ones that were always on his bed, he fluffed them, then arranged them on his headboard and the side of the bed that was shoved against the wall so that he would be surrounded by them, and able to use them to prop himself up. He tucked a fuzzy blanket atop his pillow-stuffed top sheet, and then piled the others on that. The only exception to this was the blanket that he and Craig had cuddled underneath days before—that, he wanted to ball up and clutch to his chest. 

But before he could lay in bed, the most important step of all was finding Craig's hoodie.

It was all instinctive. Kyle knew what he needed to to make himself feel even _slightly_ better, and so he did it. He found Craig's hoodie on his desk, slipping it on without a shirt so he could feel it directly against his skin. Sinking down into his bed, smothered in blankets and Craig's scent, he felt a rush of relief that was enough that he was certain he could fall back asleep if he wasn't careful. 

Trying to avoid that, though, he grabbed his phone again. There were plenty of ignored discord messages he could answer, or emails or read, or updates on Reddit. Instead, he opened his convo with Craig without hesitation. _Are you close to being home?_

 _I'm driving with Do Not Disturb While Driving turned on. I'll see your message when I get where I'm going. (I'm not receiving notifications. If this is urgent, reply "urgent" to send a notification through with your original message.)_

That was a good enough answer for Kyle. He hugged the blanket close, and slipped into a light, peaceful slumber.

He awoke like he did before, sometime later, with Craig in his room. This time he was setting down a glass of milk and a small plate with a slice of cake. When they made eye contact, Kyle felt his stomach do a flip, but he told himself that it was because he was hungry. "Oh. Hey."

There was that kind smile again. "Hey." 

"How was the store, did you..." This time, when Kyle felt those inexplicable, frustrating tears prick at the corners of his eyes, he wasn't able to stop the first few from trickling out. "I can't believe I just _let_ you go to the store, Craig, you're going to get sick." 

He felt stupid, not being able to control his emotions, his words. He hadn't worried about Craig contracting the virus until now; he was well aware that he took all the proper precautions, but just the thought of it... he could barely bear the thought. 

"Don't worry, babe, I already showered. Sanitized the groceries. Wiped everything down." 

_Babe?_

It was new, but was it as really out of nowhere as he felt it was? He knew Craig liked him. He liked Craig, as much as he'd tried to deny it, but... 

But he didn't have it in him to question it too much. It was just a pet name, but it made him feel warm and _nice_ in a way he hadn't before. Granted, most everything he was feeling today was beyond the realm of anything normal. 

"I didn't realize I was sleeping so heavily that I didn't hear all that," Kyle admitted, blushing as he sat up to lean against the headboard. 

"You needed the rest," Craig replied, and passed over the milk and cake.

Even though it was sickly sweet in an artificial, almost plastic sort of way, it was still the best thing Kyle had ever had, and he practically inhaled it, along with the milk. While he ate, Craig leaned back in Kyle's desk chair, watching him with a small smile. Rather than finding it weird that someone was watching him eat, it was endearing, and made him feel safe, because it was _Craig._

"Good?" 

"You have no idea, dude."

"I'm glad to hear it." That smile was going to kill him, in the very best way. Craig took the plate and cup back when Kyle was done, and got up again, presumably to take them back to the kitchen. 

He returned, however, and Kyle felt stupid for how relieved that made him feel. "What, uh. Are your plans for the rest of the day?"

Craig shrugged. "Look over study stuff. Watch some movies." 

"You can do that in here if you want," Kyle blurted out.

"Oh. Alright," Craig sounded surprised, but he wasted little time in getting his laptop to set up on Kyle's desk. For a while, Kyle watched him work at the desk. He was reading something, Kyle could tell with the furrowed expression he wore. 

Kyle sank down into the pillows, tucking his arm under one of them. He hesitated a moment, but he couldn't internalize his question forever. "Do you want to be over here when you watch movies?"

Craig's thick, groomed brows shot up. "Yeah. Yeah, that would be really nice. Your, um...." He made a gesture at Kyle's bed. "It looks comfortable." 

"Dude. I think I'm, like." Kyle's cheeks burned, and he buried his head in the blanket. "I think I'm nesting or whatever," he mumbled into it. Just saying it, getting it out, made him feel lighter, less burdened with emotions.

"Yeah," Craig said with the sort of certainty that Kyle couldn't bring himself to have. "You are." There was some clicking, tapping, and Craig was scooting his laptop to face Kyle's bed with Netflix open. "But that's okay. I'll help you with whatever you need." 

Kyle felt his cheeks burning even more. "You don't have to do that. I can, you know. Do whatever."

"I want to," Craig said, simply. "I actually feel like I kind of... need to?"

"Oh." Kyle raised the blanket up to his face again, but he was too little too late in hiding his bashfulness. He was accustomed to do everything himself, but Craig wanting this... It made him feel nice. "My back is cold." 

His face lit up. "I can help with that."  
  
Kyle’s heart caught in his chest. “Okay.”

"So, you're good with..." Laughing nervously, Craig rubbed the back of his neck. "Good with cuddling? I promise I won't do anything creepy." 

"No, you—I mean, _yes._ Yes, I'm definitely good with that and, um. No, you shouldn't worry about that. About doing anything creepy. I mean, I don't want to... _do_ anything, um, like _that_ right now, but..." Kyle let himself trail off, feeling foolish and on the verge of another senseless, humiliating crying fit from awkwardly stumbling over his words. "Can we have snacks?" He added, weakly.

At least Craig didn't laugh over his fumbling. He seemed sweeter, softer than ever and only nodded. "I'll get us some snacks." He was only gone a few minutes, but he returned with cookies, rye chips, and bottles of water. He moved one of Kyle's tables closer so all of it could rest within reach. 

And then he laid down, and when he pressed against Kyle's back, Kyle's senses were overwhelmed with his scent and warmth. The contented sigh Kyle let out almost sounded like a moan, but now that Craig was there, holding him? He didn't care about his embarrassment.

"God, Kyle," Craig sniffed at the back of his neck. "Your scent is so..." He did it again, and Kyle let his eyes close, relishing in the feeling of Craig's breath against his neck, how it sent tingles all the way through his fingers and toes. "I can't get enough of you, you know that, right?" Kyle could feel Craig shaking his head. "You should eat."

"It's because I'm out of medicine." It wasn't just that. Even Kyle knew that, but he still made that argument anyway, as if it would somehow save him from what was between them. But he listened to Craig's suggestion, and grabbed the bag of rye chips. "I love these," he said, as if he didn't often have them as a salty snack.

"I know. I got a bunch of stuff you like. That broccoli cheese rice stuff that comes in the bag, steaks... I'm a terrible cook, but, well." Craig laughed softly. "I'll try. I read up and you're gonna be really hungry for like..." 

"A week," Kyle enunciated around a mouthful of chips, not particularly caring about rudeness. "Or so. Four days to a week, and then—" he shoved more in his mouth, chewing them just enough to be able to enunciate semi-clearly. "Then my heat." 

"Yeah." Craig's voice sounded wistful. "Then that. Hey, guess what else I got you?" 

"Hm?" 

Craig lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Bacon and shrimp." 

Kyle laughed. It wasn't that he kept kosher, really, but he often made jokes about how terrible he was whenever he'd indulge in something that he knew his mom would give him grief for having. "Don't tell my mother. Shit—my _mother."_

Craig ran his hand up and down Kyle's side in effort to relax him. It didn't wander below the hem of the hoodie Kyle wore, and when he was done, he wrapped his arm back around Kyle. "I'll field calls for you." 

"That's really sweet but... She'd probably call the cops. I just, uh, didn't return a call from her the other day so she's probably pissed..."

Craig’s hand, large and warm, enveloped Kyle’s, joined hands pressing against his chest. He gave it a squeeze. “Just call her when you’re ready.”

Kyle nodded, lacing their fingers. "Yeah. I'll do that." But he didn't dwell on his mother for long. Craig was warm, and felt firm and _strong_ as he held him like this, and all Kyle wanted was to focus on how safe and comfortable he felt. "I like having you here."

“I like being here with you. I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be quarantined.” There was a hint of humor in Craig’s voice, perhaps making light of their situation. But what was more powerful than that was his sincerity. Kyle could hear it in his voice, but, more importantly, he could smell it on him. 

Well. That was new, being able to tell Craig’s emotions based just on his scent... it couldn’t actually be possible, and Kyle decided not to put much stock into it—he’d always figured that was an exaggeration, if not an outright myth, that when an omega found their true mate they’d be able to smell what they felt. It surely was something out of a fairytale, and quite literally. Perhaps growing up with all those stories was a self-fulfilling prophecy. Perhaps it wasn’t his scent at all, but just a side effect from being so enamored with someone to which he was so close.

"I kept...I don't know. All of this scares me, dude. Part of me was convinced I should've just gone back to my parents' even though I know I would've hated it more." Kyle was suddenly, and unexpectedly spilling his guts out. "I mean I liked you for a long time but I didn't want to let myself and tried to convince myself that I didn't, but it didn't really do anything to help, you know? Instead I just..." 

Kyle didn't even know what he was trying to say, but Craig didn't interrupt him. Didn't speak up. "I didn't want to let myself like you. Because I lied to you for years, so you thought I was something I wasn't and...and I'm not really cut out for any of this."

Craig lay there with him, listening, then in silence, breathing tandem breaths. Although it was surely seconds in reality, he waited what felt like hours to speak. And when he did, he spoke soft and sure. 

“I didn’t think you were something you weren’t. Your status doesn’t have anything to do with who _you_ are.” He took a deep breath, his exhale hitting the back of Kyle’s neck. “My mom is an omega. She’s always been... basically, she’s the provider for our family. And she’s awesome. So I grew up knowing that, well. Anyone can do anything. I’m sorry that other people don’t think that way. I’m sorry you feel the need to hide. It’s not fair.” Kyle wasn’t used to Craig’s voice cracking like that.

He also wasn't used to anyone speaking to him this way. His parents didn't believe in him. They supported him getting a bachelor's degree, but beyond that? They considered it to be a waste of Kyle's time. And as great of a friend Stan was, Kyle was under the impression that while they weren't friends _in spite of_ Kyle's status, he knew that his status _had_ changed the way Stan saw him. 

Kyle couldn't even entirely blame it on being overly emotional, because the fact that _anyone,_ especially Craig, genuinely believed in him— 

It was a lot. 

And when he started crying, he couldn't make himself stop.

“Hey. It’s okay.” Craig chastely kissed the back of his head, then his hands were in his hair, massaging his scalp until Kyle no longer felt he would drown on his own breaths. “We can watch whatever you want to fall asleep, okay?” 

“Okay,” Kyle answered hoarsely. “I’m sorry for being so....”

"Kyle. Honey. I promise, you have nothing to apologize for right now." Craig held him firmly against his chest. "A lot is happening right now. But you're going to be fine." 

Kyle could only nod in response. He closed his eyes as Craig continued playing with his hair and massaging his scalp. "I want to watch Bojack." 

"Alright, honey." Craig reached over him to fuss with his laptop until the show was playing.

He fell asleep with Craig’s arms wrapped securely around him, in his pile of pillows and blankets. 

It felt like home. 

* * *

Craig waited on him, hand and foot. Well, he _tried_ to. Kyle could get behind him fetching snacks and cooking meals given he didn't feel up for it himself for once, but outside of that? Kyle was stuck in the loop of wanting nothing more than to just stay in bed and cuddle, but also wanting to do things himself. 

He'd always been fiercely independent and it was a hard habit to break. Kyle would even go as far as to say that it was one of his defining traits. After all, everything he'd done was to set himself apart from the omega stereotype. He knew he couldn't change what he was, but Kyle still felt he didn't have to accept it. 

It was only when he was curled up against Craig, intoxicated with his scent, that he didn't mind things too much. It was just that. Cuddling while talking or watching something on a laptop, or— 

"I'm not going to remember any of this, I can hardly think coherently," Kyle complained, resting against the headboard as he watched Craig sit cross legged beside him with a stack of notecards in his hands. 

"Babe, you _know_ this stuff. Just focus." Craig reached over, squeezing his knee. "The concept that explains why people develop learned helplessness when they fail at something despite repeated efforts to control limiting stimuli." 

He felt foggy-headed. This was so unlike him. There was once a time where he could've easily remembered all the various concepts and principles in his courses effortlessly. Instead, he was so distracted just by how pretty Craig's _eyelashes_ were as he read that it took a concerted effort to retrieve the known information from the back of his mind. "Behavior-Constraint Theory." 

"See. Told you."

Kyle buried his head in his hands, and tugged at his curls with a groan. “My final’s in two hours, dude. I’m gonna bomb.” 

“You’re not gonna bomb. Maybe you just won’t be the first one done, for a change.” It was a good-natured rib at Kyle’s expense; even in his heightened emotional state he knew not to take that in any way other than the intended. He and Craig had shared enough classes that he knew that Kyle was a fast reader, and not one to second guess himself when taking tests. 

“Yeah, I guess so. I just wish we could have our books. Family Violence lets us have our books,” he mumbled into his arms. “Or that they weren’t fucking _tracking us_ with our webcams, like what the hell is that?” 

“Trust me, I’d take it for you if I could. Johansson never changes his tests and I had him last semester.”

"You could just wear my hat and he wouldn't know the difference." It was a joke, and a very obvious one at that. There was no way for Craig to pass as him, even if he took the exam in a dark room with the screen dimmed. He was too tall, his complexion was different, nevermind facial structures. But it was nice to imagine. 

"Yeah. There's no way anyone would catch on." The smile Craig directed at him made Kyle's heart thrum rapidly. But he couldn't let himself dwell on that, but at least Craig knew he needed to focus on studying, so he continued going through the study cards with him. 

Normally it would've helped. Test anxiety was a real thing, but one Kyle usually managed by studying hard and long leading up to the exam. But it was much harder to manage this time around. 

When the exam was minutes away from opening, Craig leaned over, wrapping an arm around his shoulders in a brief but tight hug. "You got this. I'll have dinner ready for you when you're done."

Kyle's gaze trailed upon Craig's lips as he pulled away. He didn't know if he was expecting a kiss, or if he just _wanted_ one so badly, wanted to feel Craig's gorgeous mouth with its perfect Cupid's bow and full, pouty bottom lip. Kyle was sure he'd be a good kisser—passionate, patient, and caring just like _him._ Craig always maintained that he was a dull and boring person, but Kyle knew otherwise. Craig had more depth to him than even Craig himself knew, and Kyle felt more than privileged that he'd gotten to know the man well enough to find that out. 

Craig's eyes flitted up to meet Kyle's. "So. Good luck, all right?" His tongue darted out to moisten his bottom lip, and it seemed as if for a moment he hesitated. But, in the end, he tossed a smile in Kyle's direction, and headed towards the kitchen. 

Kyle spent the remaining time before his test going over his study guide, and when the time came, his mind went blank. 

Luckily, it was a multiple choice test, but the entire time he was overly conscious of the timer in the upper right corner of the screen, the movements of his eyes. Would they know that he was simply reading over each question again and again, trying to make sense of things with his groggy brain that felt as if it was full of a heavy, nebulous fog, or would they dismiss his exam outright as a cheater?

He couldn't let himself dwell on that, because the moment he did, that would take up more of his focus than actually answering the questions. Eventually, he finished. It felt like an eternity, but the moment he hit the submit button and got confirmation that the exam was received, he opted not to worry about it anymore. Refused to even look at the automatically calculated grade. 

Instead, he immediately closed his laptop, set it aside, and ventured out to the kitchen. By the time he was halfway there, he could keenly smell the steak and shrimp that Craig promised him, and he felt his stomach rumble. Everything he'd read, and that Craig had read, proved true. He was absolutely ravenous.

"How'd it go?" Craig said with a curious enthusiasm, poking his head up from the mushrooms and kale he was sauteing in one of two large saucepans on the stove, before stirring them with a spatula, then flipping over the shrimp in the adjacent pan. 

Kyle sighed heavily. "How do you think it went? It was _terrible,_ Craig." He leaned against the counter, eyeing the food on the stove with interest. "I'm so fucking hungry, dude."

"I'm sure you did fine." Craig said firmly, ignoring the sound of dissent Kyle made in response. Instead, he plucked one of the slices of mushroom from the pan and fed it to Kyle. It was delicious, but Craig was speaking before Kyle even finished chewing. "Good thing it's just about ready. You're on drink duty." 

He felt dazed again, watching Craig. He snapped out of it enough to grab a couple glasses from the cabinet, deciding water was a good idea to have along with the bottles of beer he planned on grabbing from the fridge.

After sitting at the table with drinks for the both of them, Kyle drained his glass of water quicker than he'd even realized he began to drink it, and was up for a refill within a minute. "I'm so sick of being so fucking thirsty, too," he lamented, as he ran it under the tap, and washed his hands while he was there. "When I read that increased thirst was a thing with this, I thought it would be like, you know, when you're thirsty from taking medication, but I've felt like I have a hangover for _weeks._ I mean, there were a few days I didn't, but it's back." He was aware how whiny he sounded, but couldn't begin to force himself to care.

"I'd tell you it'll pass, but I don't actually know." Craig frowned, chewing on a piece of steak. "I can get you more Gatorade. The electrolytes should help." 

Kyle nodded after downing another glass of water before settling back down at the table. "I think it did. Better to just get one of the giant containers of the powder. It'd be too expensive otherwise."

"I can try and go out again tomorrow." Craig began walking their plates over to the table, and Kyle's mouth salivated at the sight of the delicious looking food. 

"Oh." Kyle's face fell, remembering that they were in the middle of a global pandemic. Which, of course, was what got him into this whole mess in the first place. "You don't have to. Aren't they saying just to go out, like, when necessary?" 

"I'd say it's necessary. It's a medical issue for you." Craig set their plates down, and Kyle had to dig his fingernails into his palms to keep himself from immediately digging in before Craig could sit across from him. "But if you're worried, I'll see if I can order some. Can't promise it'll get here soon, though." He disappeared to the fridge for a moment, coming back with a bottle of orange Gatorade for Kyle.

Their fingers grazed as Kyle took the bottle from Craig, and it took everything in him not to get flustered over it. _Fuck, he was weak._ "Thank you." Kyle unscrewed the cap and quickly took a sip. 

"Of course. Anything you need." Craig gave him a small smile and sat down at the table. "I hope you think it's good," he said, nodding toward the food. "I looked up recipes."

Kyle beamed at him, and immediately started tearing into his steak. It was _delicious,_ especially when he combined the steak, shrimp, and vegetables all in one bite. "What's on it?" 

"Butter." Craig snorted a laugh. "No, there's, like, a metric fuck ton of butter. Then it's just salt and pepper with some garlic powder. Looks like you totally hate it." 

"Horrible," Kyle joked, taking another huge bite.

Craig jokingly and lightly kicked him under the table. "Ungrateful." 

Kyle grinned, and practically inhaled his food. He still used his manners, of course, but he found himself even hungrier now that he was eating. "Seriously, you should cook more often."

"Just 'cause you wanna get out of it, huh?" Craig smirked at him. "No, I will. I actually kinda liked it. And I like watching you eat."

"You're so weird." Kyle shook his head, cheeks burning. But he understood. He liked it when Craig enjoyed his cooking too.

Craig smiled at him. "There's more if you want it." Kyle nodded, even though Craig was already up and taking his plate, bringing it back laden with extra shrimp and veggies.

He nearly moaned when he ate one of the shrimp. All of it was good, every single bite for this entire meal, but there was something he _particularly_ liked about that one. 

"Didn't realize you were so into food," Craig teased.

"Never got to have shrimp when I was younger." He swallowed with a healthy swig of beer. "Technically I'm not supposed to, but. You know." 

Craig chuckled. "Kinda like how I make a point to eat as many hamburgers as I can on Fridays."

"Imagine, hamburgers with shellfish on them." Why did that sound so delicious? Combined with the actual trash food he'd been craving lately, down to some spaghettios that were, in fact, _so awful_ he cried about it, there was something wrong with him.

Craig pulled a face. "I'm not so sure about that." 

"How is it any different from this?"

Craig opened his mouth and closed it. There were a few seconds of silence before he finally found his reasoning. "This is steak. That's ground beef. It's insulting, really." 

"You just don't want to surf and turf me. I see how it is."

Craig burst into laughter. “If that’s a euphemism, it’s the worst I’ve heard. Or the best.”

Kyle's cheeks were burning. "That's what she said." Because that made sense.

Craig rolled his eyes, and grinned. “Are you all done? Or did you want anything else.”

Kyle looked down at his plate. "I should stop now, honestly."

Craig nodded, and picked up the dishes. "There's always snacks later."

“This is true.” And, just to be safe, and because he knew he wouldn’t be interested in getting up later but to go to the bathroom, Kyle headed straight for the pantry, ravaging it of Pop Tarts and chips, then the fridge, for yet more Gatorade. 

Craig smiled at him over his shoulder while rinsing off the plates. “If you’re this hungry just by nesting, what’s it gonna be like when you’re actually preg—” Realizing his words, he blanched. “Sorry. That’s. Probably not the right thing to say.”

Kyle froze, flushing. It felt like his brain was short-circuiting. When he finally felt he had the ability to somewhat function, he licked his lips hesitantly. "You... You think about me being pregnant?"

“Um. Well.” Craig’s shoulders tensed, and he seemed to be overly interested in the dish he was washing. “Kinda... _Happens_ when I smell you sometimes. It’s just, um. Biology. Sorry.”

"Oh." Why did he feel disappointed at the very obvious reasoning that it was just biology? That should have made him feel _relieved_ but there was part of him that wanted it to be more than that. "That makes sense. But yeah. Uh, I guess I'd be hungrier in that situation."

“Sometimes when I bring you snacks and stuff I think about... that. Too, then.” Craig said slowly and awkwardly. “It’s...” He placed a couple dishes in the drying rack. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, is all.”

"I'm not uncomfortable. You don't make me uncomfortable." He bit his lip, glancing away. "It'd be a lie to say I haven't thought about that since I've been like this... But I don't want _that,_ you know? Not now anyway."

Craig nodded. “Yeah. Same. I do, you know, _eventually_ want to have kids or whatever. I always have, even if I’d have to adopt or something.” Craig’s face was flushed dark pink when he turned around. “Not really in the cards now just. Generally. School and all that.”

"Yeah." He waited for Craig to be done, and started walking to his room. "Adopting, when the time is right, is probably better. But, I think my Ma would kill me for not going the more biological route."

Craig trailed behind him, the rest of their beers in hand. “I have a sister who’s an alpha too, so my parents will get kids from one of us I bet.” 

“Yeah? Everyone in my family is a beta, even my brother. And he’s actually adopted himself.”

Craig sat down and leaned against the headboard. He held his hand out to Kyle, who wound up settling between Craig's thighs, leaning against his chest.

"Did that make things weird for you? Your family being betas?" 

Kyle closed his eyes, settling his snacks aside and allowing himself to indulge in Craig's scent. "The weird part, I guess, was being an omega when they thought I'd an alpha."

“You are pretty tall for an omega.” 

Kyle groaned. “Isn’t that statistically disproven that all omegas are small and short?”

“On average they’re smaller and shorter than alphas, though.” 

“I _am_ shorter than you,” Kyle said, “Not like that’s hard to accomplish.”

"In fairness, most people are shorter than me," Craig replied as he wrapped his arms around Kyle's torso. "But you know. You're nothing like the stereotype. Not that there'd be anything wrong with it if you were." 

"Hah, thanks."

“My parents actually thought I was going to be a beta. I presented really late. I was 17. And everyone in my family is pretty tall, so.” 

It was nice hearing Craig talk about himself. Sure, he’d opened up to Kyle as they’d gotten to know each other and he was less quiet and aloof than he was at first, but he didn’t seem to tell that many personal details to anyone, really.

"I guess that's something we have in common." Kyle's hands slid over Craig's. Sitting like this was intimate, but very enjoyable. 

"I guess so." 

Kyle furrowed his brows. "I think one of the worst things ever was seeing their disappointment."

“I don’t know how you could ever be a disappointment.” Craig nuzzled into his hair. _Fuck,_ Kyle was going to melt. “You’re so smart, ambitious.”

"That's not enough." He closed his eyes, and taking comfort in this made the conversation more palatable. "You should've seen the way they looked at me—or altogether _didn't,_ after."

“I’m sorry.” Craig pressed a kiss to the back of his head. It was short, and chaste, but it was nonetheless enough to give Kyle chills, to cause him to let out a soft sigh. “Your hair is so nice. Have I told you your hair is nice? It looks good long like this. Short too, of course.”

"I think you've mentioned it in passing once." Was it bad just how much he was enjoying cuddling so much? Granted, it was just about all he did since he started nesting. But what if, when this was over, he didn't need the contact but still wanted it? It was clear that they liked each other but thinking about it too much just made him worry twofold: that things would change too much, or that that it all really would go back to how things were before. "But, uh, thank you."

“Anytime.” Craig continued massaging his scalp, and it was like he was dissolving all Kyle’s worries away the more his fingers worked against him. He moved to his neck, lightly kneading the base. “So. What’s the story with how you presented? If it’s not too personal.”

Kyle tilted his head back and covered his face with his hands. "It's really embarrassing, honestly." He paused for a moment, his hair away from his forehead. "I don't know if there were signs beforehand. I certainly didn't know what to look for, and my parents expected me to present differently because of my _temperament._ I was in eighth grade, and I wasn't feeling great at school and I just thought I was coming down with something? But it turned into this whole ordeal. Ma took me to the hospital, and wound up being there overnight and when I came home my parents couldn't even look at me."

“Shit, that’s rough.” Craig’s hands wandered to Kyle’s shoulders, where he began kneading at the knots in them, of which there were many. “So, you’ve been on suppressants ever since?” 

“Uh-hu- _uhhhh,”_ Kyle moaned as Craig dug his elbow into one of the more tense areas on Kyle’s shoulder blade. “And birth control. And I had to come out to my best friend as an omega before I even had a chance to come out as gay.”

"How'd he take it?" As Craig worked out some of the knots, Kyle could feel some of his pent up tension ebb away. It was nice. 

"Uh... well. He promised it wouldn't change anything, but then he started treating me differently too and we had a blowout over it." Kyle couldn't remember specifics anymore, but it was one of those fights where although making amends was inevitable, it felt like that wasn't going to happen. "It's been better since then. He's just, needlessly overprotective, you know? Alpha stuff, he says. But it still gets annoying."

“Stan really cares about you.” 

“Other than chatting with you about me behind my back,” Kyle chided lightly. 

Craig braced his hands on Kyle’s shoulders, and dug his fingers into the front, right under his collarbone, pulling them back. “Slouchy,” he breathed, sweetly. “It wasn’t really about _you.”_

“Yeah. That’s what he told me.” 

“But you don’t buy it.”

"It's awfully convenient, given everything." 

"Sure, your situation sort of prompted it, but it wasn't about you at the same time, you know?"

“I figured it would’ve been. Because Stan was getting up my ass to, uh.” Kyle snapped his mouth shut. 

“To what?” 

“To....talk to you,” Kyle mumbled after a moment.

"Ah, yes. I hope you're not still nervous about talking to me about this stuff." 

Kyle shifted, twisting so he could look at Craig. "It does help knowing that you don't hate me for this."

Craig’s expression was unreadable, but in a way that seemed purposeful. “I could never hate you.”

"I just..." Kyle shook his head. Craig was too kind to him, perhaps. "I think I'd be livid if I was in your position. I'm already mad at myself—it's more than a disruption."

“It’s really okay,” Craig insisted. “This is something neither of us could predict or control.” 

And really, that was the worst part of it for Kyle. He was used to having everything planned, everything set up nicely for himself, by himself. He set his own path. But a worldwide pandemic causing all of this? That was so out of his control that it was ridiculous.

"It's still not something you signed up for. There's already so much going on that it's shitty that you have to deal with this too." 

"Don't be a martyr, Kyle." Craig brushed a hand through red locks. "No point in dwelling on things we can't prevent or change. _I'm_ not upset about this."

“Aren’t you worried, though?” 

Craig hummed. “Not particularly.” 

“I mean, because if something happens. Because at this point I feel as though something is _going_ to happen, Craig. Because we have life plans, and...” Kyle sighed. “If this means something. If it _ends up_ meaning something, aren’t you worried that it’s gonna screw with the future? Because you want to be in the FBI, and I want to.... do what I want to do. Which, of course, is what you’re _going_ to do but I can’t because I’m a fucking omega and they won’t let me.” Kyle took a breath, letting his shoulders sag and feeling foolish for his rapid-fire rant. 

“I was wondering if that’s why you wanted to teach.”

He shrugged, and rested his head against Craig's shoulder. "There's nothing wrong with teaching. I'll be good at it. But you know, if I'm going to be limited in what I can do because of _that,_ I might as well advance as far up in the world of academia that I can, right?"

“You’re so smart. You’re, like, the smartest person I know.” 

“Shut up,” Kyle said, blushing.

"Seriously. You're going places, and it'll be amazing to see you as a doctor of psychology." 

His heart was racing. "There's a chance that won't happen." 

Craig held him tightly. "No, you'll get there. Even if something...delays you, it's not going to keep you from succeeding."

Kyle felt it again—the telltale clench of his chest, the dizziness and the blurry vision that meant another round of tears was imminent. “Thank you,” he said, choked.

"I need you to know, Kyle, that I'm more than okay with what will probably happen." Craig's voice was quiet. "It's all about what you want. But, I like you. _A lot._ "

That was the push Kyle’s emotional, confusing, hormone-addled brain needed for tears to fall down his cheeks, quietly. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Craig said softly. His voice was soothing, and as much of a comfort that was to just listen to him talk, it just meant it was all the more difficult to reign in his emotions. "Don't be upset." 

"I'm not, I'm just—" He sniffled something ugly. "—I'm just scared, Craig. Scared of what this means. Scared of what might happen or might not happen. Scared about the fact that some things don't worry me as much as I know they should and the fact that _you like me_ should make it easier but—"

“Look... it doesn’t have to be anything you don’t want it to be. I _mean_ that.” Craig stroked his hair with a gentle, even rhythm. “We can stay friends. Shit, you can stop talking to me forever if that’s what you want. What’s going on might be out of your control, but the outcome isn’t.”

"I've told myself that liking you was the worst idea since I met you, because we were friends. I'd rather have you in my life forever as a friend than lose you because I— but if I'm to be frank, I've thought about it too." He was rambling. Was he even making sense anymore? He didn't know.

“I’ve thought about it a lot. Ever since you... ever since I figured it out.” Craig said, quietly. He wrapped his arms around Kyle, pulling him close and breathing in his scent. “I mean. I thought about it before, too. Being with you _like that._ But not like... not like I have lately.”

Kyle bit his bottom lip. The last thing he wanted was to start crying again. "I just don't want you to settle and regret it, just because you're going to be stuck in the same apartment as me."

Craig scoffed a laugh into Kyle’s hair. “You’re the one who would be settling.” He took a deep breath, and there was a nervousness to his deep, even voice when he next spoke. “I’ve never even been with an omega, so, I don’t know if I’d be a bad alpha or whatever. But I’d like to help you through your heat.”

"Oh." He was blushing furiously. Stan had told him, but it still made him feel flustered to hear Craig say it. "I haven't been with an alpha either. Betas and omegas, sure, but—is it weird that I've only bottomed to my toys? I mean, what I mean to say is that I think we're on the same page with that inexperience."

“That’s.” Craig cleared his throat. “That’s... hot, dude.”

"Oh God, really?" He wasn't sure if he was mortified or relieved.

Craig buried his face in Kyle’s shoulder. Even without the ability to see him, Kyle knew from the heat radiating off his cheeks and onto Kyle’s neck that Craig was embarrassed. He mumbled something indistinct, following it up with a slight chuckle. 

“What’d you say?” 

“Um. That I knew that’s what you were doing.”

Kyle swore under his breath, feeling absolutely _mortified._ It was yet another thing that wasn't exactly surprising, but he could just imagine Stan's _told you so._ "I hope I didn't uh, make things uncomfortable for you. In the moment I really wasn't thinking about anything. Just what I needed."

“Not uncomfortable.” Craig laughed lightly under his breath. “No, I just... It’s kind of insane how much your scent affects me.”

"It's mutual, at least?" His need to be wrapped up in Craig felt like it increased a thousand fold. "I felt so ashamed, honestly, because I always wound up thinking about you and it felt so _wrong_."

Craig’s breath hitched, and Kyle’s senses were once more flooded with Craig’s intoxicating scent, it seeming to grow stronger and more magnetic the moment Kyle said it. “You thought about me?”

"I feel like such a creep," Kyle commented, as a way to lessen the tension he felt. "All of this has kind of made my stupid crush on you worse."

“Crush?” There was a hopeful lilt in Craig’s voice. 

“Yeah. Well. I thought the crush I had on you when we were freshmen went away, but...”

"But it didn't?" Kyle knew right then, that Craig absolutely _knew_ how Kyle felt, between everything he’d already said, and now, but wanted to hear Kyle say it in detail.

Kyle buried his face in Craig's shoulder. "I mean, part of me knew it didn't, but I think I convinced myself that much, that this was a horrible idea, and that you'd not reciprocate anything that having to suddenly confront it all felt like being hit with a freight."

“I’ve thought you were cute for forever, so jot that down.”

"I will, on a sticky note."

Craig let out a laugh. “You’re really something.”

That was too much, and no amount of burying his face into Craig's neck would change that, so Kyle moved, settling on the mattress beside him so he could smother his embarrassment with his pillow.

Craig stayed seated, and began stroking Kyle’s back. “You _are.”_

Kyle let out a muffled half-groan, half-laugh into his pillow. 

“Even though you still suck at taking compliments.”

Kyle reached his arm out to _thwap_ Craig, but before he could make contact, Craig caught his wrist and had the _audacity_ to hold that hand while still rubbing his back. Kyle turned his head away from his pillow to look up at him. "Dude, I don't know if you're trying to kill me or put me to sleep right now." 

Craig snorted, and joined Kyle in laying down so he could pull him close again. "Sleep wouldn't be a bad thing, but frankly neither."

He looked at Kyle with sincerity. Craig’s eyes were pools of blue, and Kyle wanted to drown in them. Slowly, Craig wetted his lips, and leaned in, and Kyle closed his eyes, letting out a small, content gasp when their lips met.

It was a slow kiss, one where Kyle could savor Craig's scent and taste. His heart was racing, as if he'd finally obtained the one thing he needed to survive. At least he knew it was melodramatic, but it also offered him all of the reassurance he needed.

Craig’s tongue brushed against Kyle’s for a moment, but it was enough to make Kyle whine against his mouth, and to twine his arms around Craig and further deepen the kiss. They explored each other’s mouths slowly, easily, and when they parted, Craig leaned in for another peck, like it was the period at the end of a satisfying sentence.

* * *

One would think, upon finishing the last of his finals for the semester, that things would become a lot less stressful. In a way, that was true. It left him with the ups and downs of dealing with his nesting phase, and he could feel himself closer to reaching his heat. 

Technically, he didn't know _what_ he was looking for in terms of experience, but he had Craig's nose and his own increasing desire to get dicked down to fall back on. Not that he'd given in to that yet. He didn't want to rush it, and Craig also seemed content to cozy up and watch movies with him. 

The problem came, as it often did, when his phone rang. He'd forgotten to call his mother back, and now he could feel a sense of dread as he looked over at his buzzing phone. After all, he knew he was in for it.

“Hi, mom,” He answered, trying in vain to refrain from sounding baleful. 

Predictably, his mom started into him right away. “Kyle, I have been worried sick! You don’t call, you don’t text, you don’t answer your phone—I thought you might have the virus, god forbid.”

"I'm sorry," he said immediately before she really had a chance to lay into him. Kyle wasn't a stranger to being on his mom's shit list, but it still didn't make it all that pleasant to deal with. "I was studying for finals, and then finals happened and—I'm really, really sorry, Ma." 

"You should be sorry, Bubbeleh, you _know_ I have a condition."

Kyle was grateful that she hadn’t figured out to FaceTime yet, lest she see him roll his eyes and make a face. _Condition._ Yeah, right. His mother had suffered a minor heart attack when he was in middle school, but she’d been declared healthy as an ox for _many_ years in a row. Her only condition, Kyle figured, was that she was driving herself insane not having him around to dote upon. 

“Yes, Ma, I know,” he said, “Are you feeling okay now?”

"A bit, yes, thank you for thinking of your old mother, Bubbeleh." Just with that tone, Kyle knew what was coming. "Tell me, how are you fairing with your medicine? I would hate for you to end up a brood mare with some strange alpha out of wedlock."

 _”Ma,_ what the fu—heck.” Kyle grit his teeth, feeling a sinking sensation in his gut. “Fine. It’s fine, I’m fine.” 

“Well, we heard that nobody is able to get theirs. Unless you’re some sort of celebrity, which is just a nasty abuse of power if you ask me.” 

“I’m. Well. No, I don’t _have_ it, exactly, but...” Quickly, he scrambled to think of something to cover his own ass. “I’ve been trying supplements and they’re working okay.”

"Kyle, the moment that doesn't work you need to _call me._ You know, you're safest here with your family." 

He glanced over his shoulder, watching Craig snooze on the bed beside him. "Really, Ma. I promise. I'm doing okay here. I'm not even going out for groceries."

“That roommate of yours, is he going shopping for you?” Sheila clucked her tongue. “Kyle, don’t put that poor boy in a position where he has to help you or, _god_ forbid.” She sighed dramatically. “Have to _see_ you like that. I don’t know if I trust that young man not to flap his gums to your whole university, Bubbeleh.”

It took everything in him not to snap. His mother _always_ made the worst assumptions about other people, but it struck a chord in him more so than usual. He reached over, taking hold of one of Craig's hands as he continued his conversation. " _Ma._ He's using all of the necessary precautions when he's going out, _and_ he's one of my best friends. Craig isn't doing anything he doesn't want, and he's trustworthy."

Craig stirred at the mention of his name, and the sudden raise in Kyle’s volume. Kyle watched as his eyes fluttered open, and immediately pressed a finger to his own lips, then mouthed, _my mother._

“Oh, I just wish you’d come home, Bubbeleh. Ike is graduating this year and there won’t be a ceremony.”

"I live in a hot zone and would have to quarantine away from all of you for two weeks anyway. I doubt Ike will mind." 

"That isn't the point, Kyle! If there's ever a time to be home with family, it's during a pandemic."

“I’ll think about it, Ma.” Sometimes, with her, it was best just to tell her what she wanted to hear. 

“Thank you.” It seemed to satisfy her enough. “Are you all finished with your finals?” 

He let out a measured exhale. “Yes.”

"I'm glad to hear it. Do you know what your final grades are? Summer classes?" 

Kyle did his best to suppress his groan. "Not posted, and I registered for two classes, both online. They don't even know if they'll be having in person classes in the fall."

"Then you should come home, Bubbeh! You can do all your schoolwork here." 

"I _said_ I'd think about it. I'm not committing to anything."

Sheila unleashed one of her specialties—the long, drawn-out Guilt Trip Sigh. “Kyle, what if your father and I get the COVID?” 

Kyle shut his eyes, and rubbed his temple. “Ma.”

"Answer the question, Kyle. Are you going to let your family suffer? Think of your brother." 

He couldn't have this conversation. He was concerned about their health and safety, of course, but— "Ma? Ma, are you there. Suddenly I just can't hear you."

“Kyle!? _Kyle can you hear me now?”_ She shouted it into the receiver. 

“Ma? Ma, are you there?” He gave Craig, who had propped himself up on his elbows, an apologetic smile. “If you can hear me, I love you! We’ll talk later, bye.”

As soon as he hit the end call button, he quickly discarded his phone and flopped back down beside Craig. He leaned in for a brief peck. "I didn't mean to wake you."

“Mm, it’s okay.” Craig stretched his arms out, yawning. “I take it that conversation was a good one.”

"You have _no_ idea."

* * *

How were heats supposed to happen? 

Kyle, of course, diligently read everything he could find that he was certain wasn't some kind of regressive take that ultimately wasn't helpful. For most of the firsthand accounts he read, they began their heats first things in the morning, or late in the evening. As a result, that was what Kyle expected, and it hadn't occurred to him that the reason a majority of them were stories like that was because the alternative scenarios were much more mortifying. 

Having finished the book Craig gave him, he'd moved on to reading one of the many books he had in his room that he 'never had time' to read while lounging on the living room couch. He had lo-fi hip hop streaming on the television, and he was engrossed in the book. 

Until he wasn't. 

In the time since he'd had to wean himself off of his medicine, to having it completely out of his system he'd gotten accustomed to feeling residually aroused. It felt more muted when he started nesting, and during that time he felt more content to curl up and indulge in comfort and eat lots of snacks. 

That changed when he was abruptly hit with a wave of arousal that felt more intense than anything he'd experienced before. It happened so suddenly that Kyle was surprised at first; it wasn't like the scene he was reading in his novel was particularly sexy or anything, yet all of a sudden he was wetter than he’d ever been in his life, and felt himself _quivering_ with need.

His knees buckled when he stood, and his legs just about gave out from under him on his way down the hallway. And when he reached his open bedroom door, he clutched the frame, head feeling fuzzy. He was throbbing, all his blood rushing downward and slick gushing into his briefs.

He needed _something,_ desperately. He dug through his dresser for the toys he stashed away. Kyle wrapped his hands around each, sliding them along the lengths. He knew for each it just wouldn't be enough. That was when he remembered the _behemoth_ of a dildo he bought on a whim. That was exactly what he needed in him.

He couldn’t think beyond the overwhelming, all-encompassing desire to have something _inside_ of him. He was burning up; his clothing against his skin felt like adding kindling to a fire, so he stripped, throwing his clothes every which way, without regard for where they’d land. His underwear were soaked, and when he removed them, his slick dripped down his thighs in a way that was positively _lewd,_ and his heavy cock throbbed between his legs. 

He sucked on his lower lip, stifling a whining moan as he dropped to his knees upon his bed. 

_Fuck,_ where was Craig? He needed Craig. He needed an _alpha._

 _My alpha,_ he thought. _I need_ my _alpha._

The toy stretched him, and as he sank down onto it, it filled him. It was like an itch just out of reach that he couldn't scratch, and it drove him crazy. He rocked his hips, slowly riding it.

He whimpered as he adjusted to the huge toy inside of him. It shouldn’t have been able to fit like that, shouldn’t have slipped in so easily, and yet here he was. He clenched his hole around it, clutching soft blankets between his fingers as it hit him right where he needed it. 

The toy was massive, ridiculously so. But it still wasn’t enough.

He could scarcely hear anything beyond the sound of his heart facing in his ears, or the sounds he made. Much less anything that was going on beyond his bedroom. That was until he heard the knob turn and the creak of the hinges. 

"Holy fucking shit."

Craig’s scent flooded Kyle’s senses before he saw him, and it was so powerful, so _much_ that it caused him to double over, moaning, rocking his hips on the toy.

"Craig, I need you." His cheeks were flushed, and he didn't dare think about how desperate he looked as he looked over his shoulder.

Craig’s pupils widened, and his nostrils flared. “Are you sure?” 

Kyle keened desperately. What sort of question was that, was he _sure?_ He’d never been more sure of anything in his life. “I _need_ you,” he reiterated, “Craig. Alpha. Please.”

Craig nodded, hesitating for a moment before he tugged at the collar of his shirt nervously. He pulled it off entirely and sat beside Kyle on the bed. He trailed a hand along Kyle's spine, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "Okay, baby, I'll take care of you."

Kyle pressed his face into Craig’s shoulder, licking at his neck and inhaling his scent. “Please, _please,”_ he whined. In the back of his mind he was aware of being a broken record, but right now, he wasn’t driven by his mind.

"What do you want me to do?" Craig crooned, sliding his hands over Kyle's sides. He teased him with that tone, his hands moving further down to his hips, the curve of his ass. 

" _Fuck me."_

“Oh, god, look at you.” Craig’s voice was an authoritative, guttural murmur, yet somehow still so full of awe. “Look at you taking this toy like a good little omega slut.” He ran his finger along his stretched rim, across the base of the toy. “Jesus. You’re so fucking wet, holy shit.” 

It was talk that would, under normal circumstances, make Kyle cringe at best and ask Craig just who the hell he thought he was, bringing that up out of nowhere at worst. But right then, it was the best thing he’d ever heard.

"It's not enough," Kyle murmured, licking his lips slowly. But then, Craig grabbed the base of the toy and pulled it out, and that _not enough_ feeling was even more intense. He gasped and pressed himself against Craig more firmly. "You said you'd help me."

“I’ll help you, god, I’ll help you,” Craig all but growled, and Kyle, his face now buried in his pillows, arched his back. He heard the telltale nose of Craig’s buckle being undone, his jeans being tossed aside. “Let me see you,” Craig said, and knelt on the bed. He grabbed Kyle’s cheeks in either hand, spreading him.

"You're so ready for me, aren't you?" Craig sounded pensive, and Kyle could hardly form a response. His knees trembled, and then as Craig leaned in, dragging a tongue against his hole, he moaned loudly.

“Oh, fuck, you taste amazing,” Craig moaned, reverently. Then, his tongue traced patterns down Kyle’s inner thighs, presumably lapping up his slick, mouth stopping to kiss and suck on the sensitive area just below his ass. It was absolutely filthy, yet Kyle couldn’t find it in himself to feel put off by any of it, especially not when Craig’s mouth confidently licked back up, against his taint, then down. He sucked on his balls gently, tonguing them as he ran a finger against Kyle’s dripping crack.

He clenched the blankets beneath him, pressing back against Craig desperately. "Please, please Alpha—" As mortifying as this would've been in any other circumstance, right now he didn't care that he was pleading. He only needed one thing. 

"You're so impatient." Craig sounded amused as he slid his fingers further down, teasing his hole.

Kyle shifted against Craig’s fingers, trying to somehow guide them into his leaking entrance, but Craig had other ideas. Hand retracting, Craig’s tongue outlined his rim, then dipped inside him.

It didn't fill him in the way he was craving, but it _did_ edge him a little closer in that direction. Craig's tongue was hot and wet, and the way it probed and lapped at him made Kyle's toes curl.

“Fuck, Craig, _please,_ more,” panted Kyle, grinding his ass against Craig’s stubbly face. “I need to feel you, please.”

"You will," Craig said when he pulled away enough to speak. "I don't want to rush this, though." Much to Kyle's frustration, Craig pulled away, sitting on his knees. "Fuck, you're gorgeous. Turn around."

Kyle knew in that moment he would do whatever Craig asked of him, he knew that, for the time being, he was owned, was compelled to obey. And rather than scaring him, it both thrilled him, and made him feel secure and comforted. He glanced over his shoulder before flipping over on his back, and spreading his legs.

He couldn't even say that Craig looked composed. He looked wild, pupils dilated, and staring at Kyle as if he wanted to devour him. There was a sort of rigidness in his posture, like it was taking everything in him not to pounce. That, combined with how hard Craig's cock was, had Kyle aching. 

Wordlessly, he sat up, and while maintaining eye contact, wrapped his hand around Craig's throbbing alpha cock. _Holy shit._ But before he could even try to articulate how gratifying it felt to just stroke him like this, Craig pulled him in for another searing kiss.

Neither maintained any pretense of politeness or softness with this kiss. Lips and teeth clashed together, tongues dipped and twined into each other’s mouths, and just as soon as Kyle captured Craig’s lower lip between his teeth and sucked, Craig was pinning him against the wall next to his bed, and _biting_ at Kyle’s lips, then his neck. 

“Think your mouth can fit around me?” Craig growled against Kyle’s ear. 

Kyle knew he was leaking all over his blankets just at the sound of Craig’s voice. All he could do was nod.

Craig loosened his grip on him enough that he could move, and he shifted until he could lean down enough to mouth at the shaft of Craig's cock. Kyle felt long fingers in his hair tugging with an urgency that he immediately understood. Still, he took his time in working his way up to the tip of Craig's cock. 

He knew it was thick, but the stereotype and everything he'd read online suddenly made sense. It wasn't the first time he'd sucked a dick, but he _was_ surprised by just how intense this was just from him sucking at his dick.

Kyle bobbed his head, with the intent of working himself further down on Craig's cock with each bob, and it didn't take long for him to get to the point where he was deepthroating. In other circumstances, this would've been an accomplishment, but right then it only served to add to his present frustration. A rumble escaped his throat, and with more determination than before, he tried to take more of Craig in.

Craig combed his fingers through Kyle's hair all the while, making those sounds that made Kyle want to continue this as much as he could. But Craig had other things in mind, and tugged him up a little by his hair. "Babe, it's okay if you, yanno, can't."

“You’re so big,” Kyle whined. It was true, though—Craig’s dick was very much an alpha stereotype to the point that it was almost a caricature; he was large and thick to the point that Kyle could barely get halfway past the head without sputtering and an aching jaw. And he tasted amazing, not to mention the fact that his scent was magnified tenfold when Kyle was up close and personal with Craig’s cock, so much that it made his thighs quiver and slick gush as if he were one of those porn video omegas that Kyle had always suspected of faking their waterfalls of juices.

"And you're an amazing cocksucker," Craig said in that deep soft tone that hit him deep down in his core. "But I don't want you to hurt yourself. Come here." 

Craig guided him upward, not that it was needed. Kyle was more than willing to get up. He straddled Craig as he pressed close for another kiss. His cock was pressed firmly between their stomachs, and Craig's hands were immediately on his ass again, squeezing and spreading his cheeks. 

Craig shifted, and when his cock slid against Kyle's ass, Kyle felt almost _mortified_ by how needy he sounded as he moaned into the kiss.

“I need to feel you,” he groaned against Craig’s lips upon parting. His own mouth felt raw and swollen from their frantic kisses, from the stubble covering Craig’s angular face.

"Yeah?" Craig almost sounded distracted, as he immediately preoccupied his mouth with nipping along Kyle's jaw. But he absolutely heard what Kyle was getting at. He gave one of Kyle's cheek a firm slap before grabbing the base of his own cock, repositioning it so the tip teased at his hole.

Just the least bit of attention was enough for Kyle to see stars; he pulled Craig into another fiery kiss to drown his moans into as he pressed himself more firmly against Craig and lowered himself onto Craig's thick cock.

It was as if his life was leading up to that very moment. Like his sole purpose on this planet was to stretch himself out on Craig’s perfect, alpha dick, and everything else he’d ever done was all for naught.

"Oh fuck," he breathed when the kiss broke. He pressed his forehead against Craig's shoulder as he slowly created a rhythm, riding Craig and sinking lower and lower onto him. 

Craig's arms were tightly wrapped around him, moaning against his ear. "God, Kyle. You're _perfect."_

Kyle tipped back his head with a keen. Craig was filling every inch of him, every part of Kyle that had and would ever matter was occupied by this alpha, by _his_ alpha. It was enough to drive him mad, to make him grind his hips upon that gorgeous, massive cock, to feel himself leak and drip around it.

Craig's mouth was on his throat, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin there. It was sensory overload: everything he felt, Craig's scent enveloping him, the sounds they made. Kyle felt like they'd barely begun, and suddenly it became a lot more intense when Craig held him close and lifted him. 

It was a swift, fluid motion, and Craig had him on his back. Squeezing the back of one of Kyle's thighs, he guided it over his shoulder. Like this, Craig seemingly filled him more, reached the deepest parts of him with ease, and Kyle was completely lost in it.

His hands clutched and scratched at the broad, muscular expanse of Craig’s back, eventually settling around his shoulders. It was somehow so very intimate, with none of the awkward first-time fumbling Kyle had experienced with any of his other boyfriends or dates. It felt, above anything else, natural. 

Which was why Kyle, lost in the sensation of his wet, willing hole impaled by Craig, of the tip of Craig’s cock all but rearranging his guts and the thickest part at the base—not a knot, nobody had a knot, but _so_ thick and wonderful and beautiful—stretching him and making him squirm and pant and whimper, just let it happen when he whispered into Craig’s ear. 

“I love you.”

The response was a loud moan, with Craig burying his face into one of the many pillows covering Kyle's bed. For a moment, he stayed like that, popping his hips with even more vigor. When Craig lifted his head again, his eyes met Kyle's as he brushed some of Kyle's sweaty hair from his forehead. 

It was followed up with a brief kiss, and then Craig was leaning back against his heels, looking over Kyle as if he were a meal. "Turn over." There was a bite to his words that turned Kyle on even more. He started to move, but Craig was impatient and positioned him how he wanted: tugging Kyle the rest of the way onto his back, grabbing his hips and pulling them toward him so Kyle's ass pressed against him.

Long fingers tangled into Kyle’s mane of red curls, tipping back his head. There was a swipe of tongue at his throat, a nip of teeth at his ear, then, Craig’s other hand circled his hole, collecting slick in his fingers. “So wet for me, aren’t you.”

"Mm, yeah," Kyle replied, far too aroused to immediately respond with his usual wit. "You did this to me." The sentence broke off into a moan as Craig shoved two fingers in, relentlessly teasing his prostate. " _Fuck,_ Craig, please—" 

"You would beg, wouldn't you." His tone grew huskier each time he spoke. His other hand roamed up his spine, his neck, eventually stuffing a few of his fingers into Kyle's mouth. "You're such a good omega slut for your alpha."

“My alpha,” Kyle repeated, cock twitching. He could taste himself on Craig’s fingers, which were wet and slippery and sticky with his own slick. It was humiliating in the best way, and Kyle swirled his tongue around them before sucking as thoroughly as he could. If he wasn’t able to suck Craig’s dick like he wanted to, at least he could do this. He bobbed his head, throat constricting in a gag when Craig’s fingers brushed the back of it.

"Good boy," Craig murmured. 

He didn't give Kyle much of a warning at all before he was thrusting back into him. It was rough, he was choking on Craig's fingers, and he was loving every moment of it. They weren't even finished and it was already the best and most fulfilling sex he'd ever had.

Extracting his fingers with a light, wet smack to the side of Kyle’s face that made Kyle’s hips twitch onto Craig‘s cock as he emitted a sharp, yelling moan, Craig then grasped Kyle’s hips, hitching them up. His teeth grazed Kyle’s ear. “You take it so good, I’d think you wanted me to knock you up.”

That shouldn't have sounded so sexy rolling off Craig's tongue like that. Kyle knew, rationally, he absolutely didn't want that for real, but it didn't stop him from being completely _into_ the idea. "Fill me up with your babies."

 _”Fuck.”_ Craig shuddered a moan, snapping his hips. The sound of flesh on flesh, wet and hot, echoed off the walls of Kyle’s small room. “Wanna see you all fat with my pups. So many of ‘em.” He dug his fingers into Kyle’s hips. “Such a good little omega, just wanna breed you.” 

If Kyle wasn’t so far gone with lust, he would’ve laughed, and he wagered it was the same for Craig. And had he a shred of shame yet at this point, he might've tried to suppress the outright _whimper_ he made in response to Craig's words. Coupled with his cock hitting him in just the right way, he felt weak in the knees. He clutched at his blankets in sheer desperation. "I want you—I want you to do everything you want to me, holy shit."

“Because you’re mine.” Craig’s voice came as a growl, his face pressed against Kyle’s neck, stubble tickling him. 

“Yeah, yes, _yes,_ fuck, Craig. Yours.”

He could feel Craig breathing against his neck, inhaling his scent, his tongue flicking over his skin. All of it sent a chill down Kyle's spine, prompting him to press back against Craig as he arched his back. "I want you to come inside me."

“I will, oh, god, I will.” Craig sucked on his earlobe, then bit, gently tugging. His teeth scraped against the flesh right behind Kyle’s ear, eliciting a groan, and a buck of the hips, and a pulsating of slick. Craig snapped his hips harder still; once buried to the hilt, he ground against Kyle, so deep inside that it felt as if they were one.

He could feel himself getting closer and closer. Unlike every time he'd used his toy, it actually felt like he was getting somewhere. Maybe Craig could smell it on him, because he knew exactly what he needed. Pressing a kiss to the back of his neck, Craig's hand wrapped around his dick, stroking in a haphazard rhythm.

“That’s a good boy,” Craig panted into Kyle’s ear, voice ragged, as if he was forcing himself to hold on. “You like it don’t you? Tell me how much you like it, you fucking slut.” 

The praise, the command, the slight degradation— they all caused a burning in Kyle’s loins, a deepening of arousal that shot through him, making him shudder and twitch against Craig’s cock.

"Fuck, _Craig,_ I love it. Holy fuck, you're amazing, it feels so good—" His cheeks were burning as he moved against Craig's cock. "I need to—"

“C’mon.” Craig delivered a quick snack to Kyle’s ass, hard enough for it to sting. “Come for me and I’ll breed your little omega—“ 

_”Craig.”_

A flood of electricity coursed through him. His toes curled, and when he came, it was with an intensity he hadn't experienced before. He continued meeting Craig's movements, and then Craig came too. Kyle could feel Craig filling him up, could feel his teeth clamping down on his shoulder, the arm wrapped tightly around him. 

All it did was add to the intensity of it for Kyle, and he groaned loudly, burying his face into one of the pillows.

Craig twitched above him, cock still buried deep to the hilt, still pulsing, still pouring out every last drop of cum deep inside him. His teeth were firmly fixated on Kyle’s shoulder, and so they were locked together. The sharp pain of Craig’s bite gave way to something that made Kyle’s heart race, made tears of joy prick at the corners of his eyes. He felt a surge of relief, and an intense flood of affection whilst coming down from his own orgasm.

He didn't know how long Craig was in him like this, but it didn't matter. He felt full and happy, and when Craig finally pulled out and settled on the mattress beside him, Kyle was quick to scoot close and rest his head against his shoulder.

Craig stroked his hair, pressing kisses to his forehead. “Did I hurt you?”

Kyle shook his head as much as he could in that position as he ran his fingers over Craig's chest. "No. That was amazing."

“Yeah.” Craig hummed, satisfied. He lightly traced the outline of the bite mark on Kyle’s shoulder. “So. This happened.” 

“Yeah.” Kyle’s cheeks reddened. He knew what it meant—that, least for a while, they were bonded.

"Is that—" Craig cleared his throat, clearly hesitating in finishing the question as he eyed the mark. 

But Kyle's thoughts were elsewhere, and in a panic, he propped himself up on his elbow. "We didn't use a condom."

Craig’s brows knit in the middle of his forehead. “Aren’t you... You said you’re on birth control.” 

“Yeah, I am, but—“ he cleared his throat, which bubbled with sudden panic. In all his anxiety of his approaching heat, and his single-minded focus once it started on getting Craig inside him, he hadn’t once contemplated the other reason they’d want to use a condom. “It’s kind of been a while since I’ve been tested and I hooked up with someone like, not long before we couldn’t go anywhere anymore and I didn’t think to—” 

“Oh, that’s. Aw, Kyle.” Craig kissed his forehead again. “Hey. It’s okay. I’m on PrEP. And clean, I got tested right before the lockdown, so—” 

“Oh, thank god, I just.” Kyle laughed nervously, feeling suddenly foolish for interrupting Craig. “I get worried.”

Craig pulled him closer, holding him fast and tight. It didn't get rid of Kyle's anxiety, but the comfort and reassurance went a long way. He relaxed against him once more, and tried to redirect his focus on how sated he felt. 

"There's nothing to worry about," Craig promised him. While Kyle hoped he was right, he couldn't kid himself. He knew he'd find plenty of things to worry about. "But, um. I shouldn't have talked to you like that, it was pretty degrading and—" 

"What!? I mean, it was definitely sort of out of nowhere but it was _so_ hot, dude. I liked the idea of—" _Of being yours._ But coming back down from that high, he didn't want to overthink anything, because as soon as he let himself, he absolutely would.

Craig squeezed his shoulder. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Kyle repeated, burrowing into Craig’s broad chest, breathing in his musky, beautiful scent. 

“I gave you my mark,” Craig breathed, sounding awed.

"Is it...bad that I think... I don't really mind it?" His emotions were a mess, and as much as he was trying to sort through what was real and what was just his heat controlling him, it all felt the same. 

"Not bad." Craig was quiet for a moment, his hands idly stroking his sweat-slick skin. "Did you mean it when you said..." He licked his lips. "If you still feel that way later, tell me in at least a week."

Kyle groaned, remembering what he’d blurred out. “If I say something dumb again don’t hold it against me, because honestly I might. I don’t really feel like.... myself.” He breathed in more of Craig’s scent, and felt another sudden, heady rush of arousal, his sore, puffy hole quivering and gushing slick mingling with what felt like gallons of Craig’s release. “Fuck this heat.” He groaned again, and let out a giggle, finally allowing himself to laugh at the absurdity of this whole situation. 

Craig laughed, low and sexy. “Already, baby?” He pressed a kiss to Kyle’s hair. “I smell it. Just... gimme a second, okay?”

Kyle nodded, combing his fingers through Craig's hair as a way to ground himself. "I can afford to wait." Even if he could feel the neediness working back up to what it was while he waited in Craig to get home. "This is so ridiculous."

“Technically, it’s your first heat.” Craig shut his eyes, a content sigh escaping him at the sensation of Kyle’s fingers in his hair. “So you’ll probably have it bad. And that’s ok, I kinda love it.” Strong hands stroked Kyle’s back. “You drive me crazy.”

That alone brought him some relief. "I'm glad. I just, hope it's not something you end up resenting." 

"Babe. You've really got to stop worrying about that. I am, in fact, very content."

Kyle whined a moan into the crook of Craig’s neck. “Yeah, but—“ 

“Kyle. I gave you my mark,” Craig reiterated, stroking it with adoration. “I’m _so_ happy right now, even if we decide not to.... keep the bond, once it fades, you know?”

He nodded in response, and pressed a kiss against Craig's neck. "I know, and it makes me happy too, I'm just—" He groaned. "Overthinking."

“You don’t need to think right now.” Craig squeezed Kyle around his shoulders like they were soulmates meeting again after half a lifetime apart. “I’ve got you.” 

Swollen lips met swollen lips, softly and gently at first, then quickly, hungrily.

This was better. Every part of him needed this: his body, his heart, and mind. It was the distraction he needed from his mind, and it was a step in the necessary direction to sate that ever-growing need to be possessed and filled. 

Kyle rolled onto his back, pulling Craig with him. Their bodies aligned, and as they kissed, Craig rocked his hips against Kyle's.

This time around, Craig hitched one of Kyle’s legs up, hooking it around his back, and slid into him easily, without their lips breaking contact.

Kyle moaned into the kiss, hips twitching and bucking against Craig to meet his movements. He held onto him, nails digging into Craig's shoulders, which earned him a growl, and deeper thrusts.

“Harder,” Kyle gasped once he managed to break away from their kiss for a moment. His tongue quickly found Craig’s once more, and his hands traveled upwards to tangle into Craig’s hair, yanking as they continued exploring each other’s mouths. He tasted almost as good as he smelled.

Craig squeezed the back of one of Kyle's thighs and was more than happy to comply. His other hand found Kyle's curls, tugging in kind as he thrusted at a faster, harsher pace.

They were lost in each other, kissing, licking, touching every place they could reach, memorizing one another’s most intimate spots, the places that made each of them squirm and moan and desperately beg for more. It wasn’t long until Craig’s moans became more ragged, his thrusts became more erratic, and Kyle could tell that he was close. 

“Do it again, come in me,” he pleaded. “Knock me up.” 

He knew that, save for the feeling of being filled to the brim with Craig’s spunk, he didn’t actually _want_ that, but in that moment, the thought of Craig pumping a second orgasm in him and it being enough to _breed_ him, to ensure that he would fulfill the function for which his body was created, about tipped Kyle over the edge once more.

"You're going to have so many of my babies." Craig murmured against his skin as he nipped and sucked at the mark he'd left. Kyle was certain that the whole area was going to be a dark mass of blue and purple before it was all said and done, and right now he didn't mind that. "Come with me." 

Was he just a romantic, or was it coincidental timing? Ultimately, it didn't matter; the feeling of Craig shooting into him while his dick was pressed against his prostate was more than enough to get him off, too.

Craig’s hips twitched as Kyle bore down, milking Craig of every last drop of his release. “Babe,” Craig gasped, “Babe, holy fuck that feels too good that it almost hurts.”

His breath was ragged, breathing erratic, but he laughed all the same and gave Craig a kiss on the cheek. " _You_ feel amazing. You, fuck, you filled me up."

“Yeah. It’s a fuckin’ slip and slide down here, dude.” Craig cracked a smile.

That made Kyle laugh something awful, and he couldn't help but cover his face as he laughed. "You're ridiculous."

Craig snorted, and nuzzled into Kyle’s neck. He remained inside of Kyle until his erection softened fully, and when he pulled out, it was with a groan. “Okay. Should we bother with cleaning up, or...”

"This is totally gross, but at this point I think just having Gatorade in here is more important." He should've had the foresight to think of laying down towels, but it was far too late for that.

“Be right back.” Craig captured Kyle’s lips in a kiss that left him breathless. When he departed to go to the kitchen, he hovered in the doorway, gazing at Kyle with a protective, yet somehow soft, look in his eyes. “I don’t even wanna leave you to go to the kitchen. Like, what if something happens to you while I’m out?” He snorted another laugh, and shook his head. “Man. I didn’t know bonding would be this intense.”

"I feel that too." Really, it was a relief that he wasn't the only one feeling that way, but it did feel ridiculous. "So, um. Don't take too long." That was Craig's cue to actually go retrieve the Gatorade, leaving Kyle on his own for a brief moment, which he spent trying to suppress the sheer giddiness he felt.

Eventually, though, he couldn’t; he turned over onto his stomach, and squealed into the pillow, struck with nothing but excitement and love. And while Craig was in the kitchen, Kyle had a curious feeling that he knew was his connection with the other man. It was like a deep down knowledge that he knew that Craig was okay, was healthy, and would be back soon. Were circumstances different, he would have wanted to test that out, to have Craig go elsewhere and see if he could still feel it.

The kitchen wasn't far; it wasn't like their two bedroom apartment had more than barely modest square footage anyway, but when Craig returned with drinks and snacks, Kyle felt absolutely relieved seeing him in the doorway again, and subsequently set up a snack and drink station on Kyle's desk. 

"There you are," Kyle mused, smiling at him as he sat up and leaned against the pillows and headboard. 

"Miss me?"

“So much.” Kyle gave him a smile. 

“I missed you too.” Craig uncapped a Gatorade, and perched himself on the side of the bed, handing it to Kyle.

Kyle accepted the bottle, and took a generous sip. "I could get used to this," he commented, while stretching his legs out to prod his feet at Craig's thighs.

“So, in that case.” Craig stared at him, blinking slowly. He took a swig of Gatorade, and cleared his throat. “Will you go out with me?”

Kyle could feel his heart racing, a million thoughts running through his head at once. "As in boyfriends? I think—I mean, I _know_ I want that."

“As in boyfriends.” Craig nodded. A grin spread across his face, ear to ear. “We don’t have to tell anyone we’re, you know. That you’re an omega, so don’t worry about that.”

Kyle scooted close, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. "I like the idea of being as normal as possible, at least to everyone else, for a while."

“Of course.” Craig flung an arm around him, and pressed his face into his curls, very blatantly inhaling his scent. “Mm, god.”

Kyle laughed, and held him. "If you think I smell good, you should meet my boyfriend."

Craig’s dorky laugh was even more endearing than normal. “Sounds like he’s a pretty cool dude. Seriously though, um.” He straightened his back somewhat. “I’m still not in a rush to actually, you know. Have kids or anything, just so you know. No pressure, it’s just....” 

“Hot to talk like that?” Kyle finished for him.

"Yeah." Kyle laughed in the way one did to relieve tension. 

"Yeah. I didn't know it was hot until...well, today. But yeah. I don't want kids for a long time either."

“Glad we’re on the same page.” Craig smiled at him, then swigged his drink once more. It dribbled down his chin, and Kyle, as if automatically, leaned over and swiped his tongue against it.

Craig returned the favor with a kiss, and Kyle couldn't help but smile against his lips. It all felt so unreal, but in the best way. 

"I was also thinking," Craig said, speaking slowly. "We should apply for the same grad schools. If you want."

“I don’t wanna leave you. Like, ever. So yes,” Kyle blurted out. “Or we could think about it later?” He grimaced. “I just mean. ‘Cause I haven’t gotten my grades back yet and I’m pretty sure my whole GPA is done for, so I’ll be lucky if I get in anywhere.”

"We can table it for now. But really, Kyle, Universities are going to bend over backwards to try to get you into their programs." It was a confidence that Kyle didn't have in himself, but he'd accept it at the moment.  
  
The moment. Kyle leaned back into his pillows, rubbing against Craig’s neck, soaking himself in scent. All that mattered, right then, was the moment.

* * *

The days passed in a haze. They indulged in every whim, drinking each other in, indulging in physical touch, whether in Kyle's bed, the shower, or elsewhere in the apartment. They drank more Gatorade than they probably should have, and before it was over, Kyle had eaten into a considerable portion of what was left of his stimulus check in ordering delivery for them. 

There was plenty of food in the house, of course, but Kyle had felt insatiable, and preferred spending the time that could've been spent cooking by riding Craig's cock, or being bent over his bed, desk, or any other piece of furniture they happened to be near. Craig was happy to oblige.

When the haze lifted, they came out of it covered in scratches and bruises, exhausted, and sore in the best ways. They deep-cleaned and aired out Kyle's room, and Craig was more than happy to take charge of washing the bedding. In the meantime they'd made use of Craig's bed, which Kyle found he slept perfectly well in now that he wasn't driven by an annoying biological imperative to sleep on a ridiculous pile of pillows and blankets.

The only dip in his mood was when Kyle finally felt ready to check his final grades, which had been posted for some days at that point. His heart raced, and as he entered his Student ID number and password into the grades portal. 

"I'm going to be sick," he said as he hovered over the degree audit section. 

Craig sat beside him, pressing a kiss against his mark. "Honey, no matter what your grades are, it's not the end of the world." 

"Easy for you to say, you got to maintain your GPA." Kyle huffed, but he wasn't actually frustrated with Craig's success. Even though the circumstances were beyond his control, his grades were still his own responsibility. Sighing, he finally clicked the button and held his breath as the page loaded.

His heart sank. Three As. One B. One C+ in his _stupid_ lit class. The ding in his GPA hurt, and he quickly closed out the browser and pushed his laptop away. 

"Babe."

"It's fine. I’ll be _fine._ I'm going to make a drink and get ready to hop on a call." Game night was always a great distraction from everything wrong in the world. It was the first one he'd be attending since before he started nesting, much less the actual heat, and he missed his friends.

Craig knew it wasn’t fine, even if Kyle had insisted it was. He caught Kyle’s wrist in his hand, just as he was about to leave the room. “Kyle.” Craig’s eyes were piercing, yet kind. “It’s a lit class. It’s not your major; any grad school you’re applying to will see that, and understand.” 

Rationally, Kyle was aware of this. But it was still the first grade under a B+ he’d received his entire college career; it wasn’t something he was just going to bounce back from within the span of seconds. “I don’t know, Craig, I guess we’ll see,” he groaned.

Craig didn't say anything else. He let go of Kyle's wrist, and Kyle felt his eyes on him until he turned the corner down the hall. He pulled down a glass from the cabinet, ice cubes from the freezer. It took no time to make himself a particularly strong rum and coke before moving back to his room. 

At that point, Craig was no longer in there, which was just as well, as Kyle anticipated the game taking up most of his attention. As he sat down and opened Discord, he hovered over the button to join the call in the server he had with his friends. 

He'd almost joined while wearing a t-shirt with a stretched out neck, which would've exposed his mark and hickies. Thinking better of it, he changed into a turtleneck first.

Did that matter? There was no way his friends were that stupid. Well... maybe Butters. _Possibly_ Eric, but that was dependent on the amount of overly-sweetened malt beverages he’d ingested. But it was still early, and Eric usually didn’t begin his binge drinking of Mike’s and/or Lime-A-Rita’s until evening... although, the last time he’d been on a call was weeks ago. Perhaps Eric had abandoned the pretense of only binge drinking after 5 p.m. 

Either way, at least Stan and Kenny were bound to know why he was wearing a turtleneck. Would it be worth it? It wasn’t as if he wanted to reveal Craig’s mark to anybody else. That was an intimate, private thing. It meant something, and wasn’t for just anybody to stare at.

They would make jokes regardless, because that was who his friends were. But it was better to have them ragging on him for what they assumed than to see it for themselves. With that in mind, he clicked the option to join the call. 

Immediately, his headset flooded with the raucous sounds of his friends and their usual banter. But Stan realized he'd joined, he immediately grinned. "Kyle!"

“Kyle!” Kenny imitated Stan with a grin. Unlike many of the previous weeks where Kenny appeared to be in some sort of alleyway near his workplace, he was sitting in his studio apartment, leaning back in his bed, laptop presumably perched on his chest. He wasn’t wearing a mask, and looked happy and healthy. “We’re gonna play Pandemic.” 

He snickered. “No we’re not gonna fuckin’ play Pandemic, _Kinny,_ we’re playing Dune.” 

“I thought we were playing Catan,” Butters supplied from next to Eric, as he knocked his knuckles together. 

Everybody who wasn’t Butters laughed. 

“No, we’re totally playing Pandemic. It’ll be easy for you, Butters, don’t—“ Kenny’s brow raised, and he narrowed his eyes, getting closer to his computer screen. “Kyle. What are you wearing.”

"A shirt," Kyle said, knowing full well that wasn't going to be the end of it. 

"That's a fucking turtleneck," Stan chimed in with a snort. "Why are you wearing a turtleneck in the summer, Kyle?" The shit-eating grin he bore was proof he knew full well why. 

"Oh jeez, fellas, Kyle's probably just chilly. You're coming down with something, are you?"

“No!” Kyle snapped, and rubbed at his neck. The moment he did so, he knew it was a dead giveaway, as all of his friends, save for Butters, erupted into laughter and cheers. 

“Kyle got some!” Kenny pumped his fist in the air.

"Wow, the bitchy omega got dicked down by an alpha. Groundbreaking." 

"Shut up, Fatass," Stan said perhaps too quickly. "You're just jealous. Kyle. How was it, and spare no details." 

Kyle shook his head as he attempted to shield his burning cheeks from view. "I'm sparing _all_ the details, but we're dating."

Stan practically squealed. “Really? That’s awesome! He really liked you, ‘cause when we talked—“ Immediately, he clammed up. 

Eric’s eyes narrowed. “You... talked. To Kahl’s roommate.”

Kyle was over being bothered about the conversation that Stan had with Craig, even if he still didn't know the details of it. It was fine, because now that he was feeling more level-headed, he felt secure in his very new relationship with Craig—more than he did now where school was concerned. 

Because if that, it made it very easy to chime in to defend both Stan and Craig. "Yeah, dude. They're friends." 

"That's bullshit, Kahl, and you know it. If they were friends, he'd be in this server too and— _don't you dare get any ideas."_

“I don’t even want him here!” Kyle flushed. “I mean. It’s just for us, you know?” He gave his closed door a sidelong glance, hoping that his friends would miss the wistfulness in his eyes.

The others might've taken it at face value, but if there was one thing Eric was good at, it was his perceptiveness. He never missed anything where Kyle was concerned. "Bullshit. Quit fuckin' _lying_ Kahl. I can't believe you're ruining game night by perpetuating the alpha supremacy agenda."

“Not his fault you’re a beta,” Kenny mumbled into a red solo cup filled with something that was surely strong enough to strip paint from walls. 

“AY! I’ll kick your ass, Kinnie!”

"Yeah, dude," Stan said, using his _voice of reason_ tone. "Kyle's not perpetuating anything just because the dude he's settling down with happens to be an alpha. It's not like he's an alpha chaser—" 

Kyle knocked back a hearty gulp of his drink. "Can we not?"

“Yeah, uh, can we just play the game, fellas?” Butters sipped on a mug of what Kyle had a suspicion was milk. “What are we playin’ again?”

That prompted another round of debate, but at least the focus was off of Kyle, and once they settled on a game, the rest of the call was quite fun. Still, when it was over, Kyle was glad for it—socializing with others as infrequently as he had, he felt drained, and he'd finished off his drink hours before. 

He shut his computer down, and knew exactly what he wanted to do: find his boyfriend, discuss dinner options, and maybe get a smooch or two out of it. Finding Craig wasn't hard; as soon as he opened his bedroom door, he could hear Craig talking softly in the living room. 

And there he was, relaxing on the couch as he spoke on FaceTime with someone. He figured the dinner conversation could wait, but when Craig saw him, he ushered him over, mouthing: _do you want to meet my mom?_

Kyle's heart skipped a beat. He nodded, and after Craig motioned for him to join, Kyle raced for the couch, flopping upon it, and cuddling up to Craig.

Craig immediately draped his arm over Kyle's shoulders and adjusted the position of his phone. "Mom, I want you to meet my boyfriend.”


End file.
